Being in a Pack
by Pentakill Lux
Summary: AU.Before Scott got bitten Stiles had never been seriously injured. But now Stiles' world has been flipped one-eighty and everything is werewolves and hunters and poisoned bullets, late-night stakeouts and running from your life with frigging arrows flying around his ears. But that's just normal life when you're part of a Pack, right?
1. Chapter 1

Intro: This is set somewhere in the middle of season 2. Therefore some upcoming events on the show (hinted in the trailers) will already have occurred and will sometimes be referred to in this story. But since I for obvious reasons (Obvious reasons being that I'm not super rich from stock trading and live betting) cannot see into the future, I don't know how season 2 will unfold and I've therefore had to label this as AU. The universe is mostly the same, except it's running on my future head canon.

* * *

_How many chai latte can one guy drink? I mean, the dude hasn't even been to the toilet. It's disturbing, that's what it is. Bladder that size just ain't normal._

_Pff, normal. Listen to yourself. Who the hell are you to talk about what's normal? My whole life's a freak show._

"Stilinski!" Stiles manages to pull himself out of his own mind and turn just in time to see the manager's angry face before two huge paws lands on his shoulders and spins him back to face the full coffee shop.

"Look at all those people, Stilinski." the manager barks from behind him, hands still resting on Stiles' shoulders. "Tell me what you see!"

Stiles pulls a face, knowing well enough that the manager won't be able to see it. "Umm, blonds, brunettes. A guy currently on his sixth chai latte?" He lists, trying to shrug before remembering that ten pounds of ham-like hands are currently pressing down on his shoulders.

"I. See. Profit." The manager stresses every word like it's a magic spell that requires precise pronunciation. "I see rich little girls with their puppies and their daddy's credit cards and even richer boys trying to get in their pants, so for the next twenty minutes, 'till your shift is over, Stilinski, why don't you spend some of your boundless teen energy on getting those little sugar canes to spend some of those delicious money and leave the depressing inner monolouges to bad actors in hospital shows! Okay, Stilinski? Okay!"

And then finally the dead weight leaves his shoulders and Stiles lets his entire upper body slouch over the counter, planting his face on the cold glass and squeezing his eyes shut.

_Yeah, okay. Twenty more minutes, I can do that. I've got this, no biggy. Uh, blond girl, God you're attractive._

"Hey, Stiles!" A deep voice demands and Stiles feels a chill down his spine. "Can I get some service here?"

He almost walks off, but manages to clench his fists and turn to face Derek who is leaning on the counter on one elbow.

"Out socializing with your friends?" Stiles deadpans, leaning to the side to look behind Derek, mockingly waving at the empty air.

"Shut up. I need your help." Derek snaps.

"My help? _My help_? What could Derek Hale possibly need my help for? I can't think of a single thing. As a matter of fact, the last thing you growled at me was to `_mind my own damn business._´ " Stiles lowers his voice to a passable rumble at the last bit, pushing out his chest and keeping his arms awkwardly out form his body in a comic attempt to burly up and imitate Derek's larger body. "And even if my sensitive human emotion hadn't been irrevocably hurt by your less than gentle farewell I wouldn't be able to help you out - _buddy_ - as I have 20 more minutes 'till I get off from work. And you can't stay here unless you order something."

"You get off from work now. Go get your jacket and meet me at your jeep in two minutes." Derek pushes off the counter and straightens up to his full height and Stiles has to admit to himself that he's very impressive when he does that.

"You're not the boss of me!" He lamely protests, but Derek just inhales deeply, and then lets out a very low growl.

"Yeah, okay. Jacket. Jeep. Two minutes." Stiles rambles weakly.

"One." Derek counters and leaves the store in long strides. Stiles swears under his breath.

Three minutes later Stiles comes running into the parking lot. He's changed out of his uniform, back into a short sleeved t-shirt with the words "**Bite me**" on his chest.

Derek only offers a quick glare at the text, then shakes his head with an expression that clearly stated that he can't even be bothered to comment on the irony. Instead he slips into the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep, waiting to be driven around like Stiles is his own personal man-servant.

"So where exactly are we going?" Stiles asks as he pulls out of the parking lot and unto the busy street.

"You missed practice today." Derek says as if that's an answer.

"I miss practice all days. I'm off the team, remember? Someone told me I had to because Jackson couldn't control his wolfiness around me."

"Turns out Jackson can't control his …" Derek stops, reluctant to repeat the word wolfiness. "…Himself around anyone. He bit someone at practice today."

"What?" Stiles almost hurts his neck turning his head so fast, searching Derek's face for more information. "That's not good, that's actually bad. Why didn't Scott call me?"

"Scott doesn't do anything unless I tell him to." Derek just growls.

"Really, not anything? Could you stop telling him to make out with Allison during lunch then, because that is really starting to get on my…"

"Stiles!" Derek barks. "Focus!"

"Yeah, okay. Focus. So who did he bite, please don't say the coach, please do not say…"

"Danny." Derek's voice is low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl. "He bit a kid named Danny."

Stiles can feel his own heart stopping for a few beats, his entire body going cold and then flush hot when the adrenalin hits his system. "What? No, no, no, no, no, NO! No way man, Jackson likes Danny, he wouldn't hurt him."

"As I recall it, Scott tried to kill you when he was a new wolf."

"Yeah, but that is like…. not different at all, come to think of it. So where are we going?"

"My house."

"Really? You didn't take him to the hospital?" Stiles actually perks up at this. Perhaps Danny wasn't that badly injured after all if they didn't have to take him to the hospital.

"They cleaned him up, but we had to get him out of there. He's already healing."

Stiles does his best to keep his eyes on the road, to keep from crashing the car into a tree when realization hits him "Oh. Oooooh! So Jackson actually turned him, holy shit, that's fucked up. I thought it had to be an Alpha."

There's a silence and Stiles knows that something is coming, something that Derek doesn't want to say and doesn't want Stiles to hear.

"It does."

"What, so Jackson is the Alpha now? I miss out on _everything_!"

"Jackson's not the Alpha, no."

"So what, _you_ bit Danny?" The silence is even heavier now and if Derek notices that the speed of the car just went from `very fast´ to `light speed´ he doesn't comment. "The Argents are gonna skin you for this."

"I had to." Derek finally confess, voice as low as ever. "He wouldn't have made it otherwise."

When the asphalt road turns into dirt, Derek tells Stiles to stop the engine. It's not until Derek slides out of the car and runs off between the trees that Stiles realizes Derek is actually expecting them to go the rest of the way on foot. He wants to point out that while Derek's Camaro might not do well in the wet mud of the forest, the Jeep is actually made for stuff like that, but Derek is already gone and Stiles realizes that he's shaking from cold and that it's getting dark inhere where the sun's last light doesn't quite reach.

Reluctantly he starts jogging after Derek, even though the werewolf is already gone from sight. About a mile in he hears someone coming towards him and sees Derek's large body running up to him between the trees. He doesn't comment on Stiles pace, but runs a few circles around him and then runs off again.

"That's not enervating at all." Stiles mumbles and picks up his pace.

He's panting when he arrives at the burned down house, and he might or might not have gotten stuck in mud more than once, and he has to stop and rest his hands on his knees for a few seconds before he pulls it together and walks into the house.

Derek's waiting inside and in a corner is Jackson, wolfed out, apparently tending to Danny's healing wounds.

"Should I be here when he's like that?" Stiles asks, realizing he sounds like a girl he clears his throat. "Because you know, I don't want to hurt him if it comes to a fight."

Derek just frowns and Stiles turns his attention back to Jackson, but when he realizes what Jackson is doing he jumps and spins around to face the door, taking deep breaths.

"Is he _licking_ Danny's wounds?" He whispers, knowing full well that both Jackson and Derek can hear him anyway. It just feel like something you would want to _not_ say out loud.

"It'll help the healing process." Derek explains coldly, as if Stiles very normal(he thinks) reaction to someone licking someone else's wounds is beyond rude.

"That's just not sanitary, like - _at all_." Stiles continues to whisper, but for some reason the complete monster truck car crash that is going on in the corner somehow manages to draw his attention back again.

"Where's Scott?" He asks, and decides that looking at Derek's face is still a better option than keeping his eyes glued to what ever the hell Jackson is doing to Danny.

"He's off with Allison, trying to negotiate with her father." Derek also takes his eyes off Jackson, focusing instead on Stiles. "They're having a difficult time accepting that I've gone from turning misfits and social outcast to turning some of the best and brightest in this town into Werewolves. Apparently they're a little pissed right now-"

"How dare they!" Stiles exclaims in mockingly horror, earning a ruthless stare from Derek that he ignores. "What am I doing here again?"

"I need to go meet Scott at the Argents, I need you to stay until he comes back here."

Stiles spins around himself and pinches the bridge of his nose when he again faces Derek.

"Okay One, Should I even be alone with those guys? They aren't really the incarnation of control right now. And Two, you're going to go to the Argents? Are you crazy? Scratch that, I know you are, but you're usually so solid about it. What are you thinking, they'll chain you up and use you for dart board."

"Look, if I don't go there, they'll just come here. And then the whole pack is screwed. Hopefully Scott and Allison will have been able to talk some sence into her father's head by the time I get there."

"_Hopefully_? Yeah, lets just go with hopefully, that's a good plan, very Hollywood, I might add."

"And Jackson will keep you safe here, he'll change back before I leave." Derek continues, ignoring everything Stiles said. "I just need you to look after Danny. He's a little freaked, so I didn't want to leave him alone with Jackson. He needs something to distract him."

"You're so talkative and bossy today. I like that." Stiles says and turns his head to look at Danny, who's waking up in the corner, but Derek grabs him by the jaw and pulls his face back.

"_Don't_ try to be a hero about this Stiles. If Jackson tells you to move, you move, you get that?" Derek growls and his eyes bore into Stiles, not letting him go until Stiles nods awkwardly. "Yeah, I would say I got that." He rants quietly, trying to look away from Derek's steady gaze.

Derek lets go of Stiles' jaw and finally retracts his enormous body to a more socially acceptable distance. "Jackson!" he yells and in the now dark corner Jackson gets to his feet and Stiles sees that he's human again, well as human as the guy can get.

"Three hours." Derek tells Jackson. "When it gets fully dark you move Stiles to the cellar, you got that? Hopefully Scott will be back soon to take him home." Derek doesn't wait for answer before he's gone.

Stiles ignores the way that Jackson's eyes pierce his back as he moves to sit next to Danny on the floor. "So Danny boy, how are you? You look golden, I might add." He gets a weak chuckle from the injured soon-wolf. "You wanna try cleaning that wound with water and soap, or are you sticking to saliva today?"

"Please don't make me laugh, Stilinski. It really hurts." Danny chokes out, but there's still a small smile on his face.

"Okay, buddy. Let's just get you cleaned up and throw on some sassy bandages before you're done turning and want to rip my insides out, okay?"

He trows Jackson a glance over his shoulder and for a few seconds their eyes interlock and Stiles realizes that Jackson is crying. And he's not even trying to hide it.

Danny is surprisingly agreeable, allowing Stiles full access to his various cuts and bites. From what Stiles can make out Jackson bit him two times, teeth marks going deep and uncontrolled. And then there's the third set of teeth marks, right in the soft patch of his abdominal muscle. These marks are precise and just breaking skin, barely drawing blood.

As Stiles continue his examination Jackson is pacing the darkening room. Once in a while Danny lifts his eyes to look at Jackson and Stiles can hear the werewolf stop pacing, just for a short moment.

"You know there was a time where I'd give anything to have your hands all over me." Danny whispers quietly to Stiles at one point, but when Stiles' eyes moves from the claw makes he's treating to meet Danny's, the injured teen just smiles and closes his eyes. "But I got over you when I realized what a little piece of shit annoying, hyperactive brat you were." He says, and a smile splits his face. "Pretty though."

Stiles can't help but smile. "I knew I was attractive to gay guys!" he jokes and shakes his head as he returns to Danny's wounds. "These are almost healed."

Jackson stops his pacing again and comes to crouch beside Stiles. "Scott should have been here by now." He says annoyed. "It's dark."

"I'm sure they're almost here, we should call them." Stiles gets to his feet, but regrets it instantly when Jackson takes the upraised position as an invitation to step into Stiles' personal space. "I already called them." Jackson hisses in his ear, hand coming up to rest on Stiles' shoulder as if it's the most natural contact in the world. "I called Derek too. I even called Allison, she send me to voice mail!"

"That sounds bad."

"You think? Look, I know Derek said I should get you in the cellar, but if the Argents are coming, then they're coming here, and I can't protect you if you're stuck in a cellar, and Danny's every bit as likely to fight us as he is to fight them. He needs a lot of bonding before he knows where he belongs."

"Hey I can hear you fine." Danny says and crawls to his knees. "And maybe our friendship means shit to you, Jackson, since apparently you just shred who ever you're pissed at, but I don't work like that okay? I do in fact know where my loyalties lies. Where they've always been."

Jackson turns to asses Danny as the other man scrambles to his feet. "I don't doubt that you believe that." He says roughly, but there's a softness there too. "But I'm talking about the wolf in you Danny. He hasn't met the pack yet."

"Look let's just all get in the cellar. If they come snooping here, hopefully they'll think the place is empty and be on their merry way." Stiles suggest.

"You seriously want to be locked inside a small room with two unstable new-wolves?" Jackson raises his eyebrows in challenge, but then he shakes his head and steps back out of Stiles' personal space, taking the hand on Stiles' shoulder with him. "Look, Derek left me in control, and believe me, I can and will manhandle your precious ass into that cellar if I have to." He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles', almost begging to be challenged on this. "I just don't want anyone locked in a cellar if we can avoid that."

"I don't know if I have a say in this, but not being locked in a cellar is certainly something I can get behind." Danny says and then raises his finger at Jackson, cutting off the incoming pun before it's spoken, with a "Don't go there."

"I wasn't even thinking about making a joke about what you do or do not get behind." Jackson says, smile on his face.

"And yet somehow you managed to do that anyway." Danny points out and then turns to Stiles. "You wouldn't happen to have a laptop with you?"

"There's one in my bag in my car. But that's miles away."

"What do you need a laptop for?" Jackson asks.

"Well they'll have cell phones, right? I mean, hunters or not they're still humans, so they're bound to have phones. I can track them, GPS, see if anyone is closing in on where we are. I can even track Derek and Scott, see if they're somewhere that would scream trouble."

"I love having you on our team." Stiles breathes, and there might have been a bit of worship in his voice, but he'll never admit to it.

"I'll do the milk run, but you two will have to stay in the cellar while I'm gone." Jackson says and holds out his hand for Stiles' keys. Stiles hands them over reluctantly.

"Are we sure that's safe?" Stiles whispers nodding towards Danny and Danny crosses his arms over his chest and snorts.

"Just don't get him pissed for like ten minutes, can you do that Stilinski?" Jackson bites back and shoves them both towards the cellar. As the heavy door closes behind him, Stiles thinks perhaps that he can feel one of his old panic attacks coming on.

* * *

Derek isn't exactly sure when things went wrong. But he was becoming intensely aware that trouble these days with alarmingly increased frequency started with Scott and his big mouth.

When you're a werewolf trying to survive and keeping your pack safe with a family of hunters breathing down your neck it was really important to stay - _friendly_ - with said hunters. And Scott was really good at that, _surprise_, the boy wasn't useless in all regards. But he just couldn't' keep his mouth shut for very long.

Derek can feel the intense burn of fear and adrenalin rush through his body the moment the words left Scott's mouth.

"What about Lydia?" Argent's voice is rippled with ice cold anger.

"Oh, well. Don't worry," Scott tries to smooth things over. "We have it under control."

"You assured me that Lydia was taken care of. Where is she now?" Argent demands, looking past Scott, past his daughter and straight at Derek, who In Chris Argent's eyes, is responsible for all rogue creatures on the territory.

"We don't know." Derek admits. "She's not like us. She's … something else."

"Dad!" Allison pipes up. "She hasn't hurt anyone since then and you know it! You know she had no idea what she was doing."

"She's a lose canon, and that's even worse!" Argent corrects.

"Dad, she's my best friend, please don't do anything reckless."

"I think you're just about out of free passes to hand out to monsters by now, Allison." Argent all but yells, and Allison's face is painted with shock.

"Dad, please!" She tries again, and Derek keeps his eyes on Argent's face. It's the decision he makes now that'll determine of they run or fight.

"It's not up to your father anymore," Comes a soft voice from the open doorway. "I've already called Gerard. He was very interested in her the last time." Allison's mother says in her silky voice, dripping of spider poison. "It's out of our hands now."

Barely a split second after Derek makes his move to run, Scott is right behind him. They tumble trough the glass of the nearest window, getting to their feet in synchronized sweeping motions and as bullets fly around their ears they head out into the night, just as eight hunters from nearby cities gets in their cars to drive.

"Is there a plan?" Scott breathes as the two of them race through the dark city, heading for the forest. Derek digs out his phone, and waits until Isaac picks up, so he can give the order to both of them at the same time.

"We need to find Lydia." Derek growls. "We need to catch her and prove that she can control it now. If not, they'll kill all of us." Isaac just hangs up without commenting, but Derek knows he'll join them soon.

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll listen to reason." Scott shoots back, but Derek just growls at him.

"You're the one who wants to work with the humans, Scott._ This is how it's done_."

In his pocket his phone vibrates and shortly after Scott's does the same. Neither of them slows down to pick up.

They've never tracked anything like Lydia before. She's all alien sent and erratic behavior. They don't know her strength and Derek is betting she doesn't know her own strength either, is hoping that is the case. Because he's pretty sure she's not only a new kind of beast, she's also cunning, smart as hell and fast. If it was to come to a real fight Derek wouldn't like their odds.

But what worries him is that the Hunters closing in on them doesn't have any interest in putting Lydia's abilities to the test. They're coming to shoot and kill, not to bag and tag. And that might be something he could overlook, after all Lydia was never a part of his pack, even if Peter was the one to turn her into what ever beast she's become.

No, Derek worries about his own, his pack. The lost boys from all different places in society, brought together under his rule. They might not be blood, but they damn sure are family.

Scott, who has the biggest heart in the world, fitting in everyone he comes across and keeping them there, never letting go.

Jackson, with his strength and inner power, his abilities to make quick decisions and keep his friends safe. Even with all his insecure anger issues he would rather be a part of a pack than to stand out on his own.

Isaac, who's been lost and alone all his life, acknowledging the bite for what it is: A gift. He's full of a lot of contradicting impulses, but the need to be wanted and belong is the strongest and Derek knows he will fight for the pack with his life.

Danny, the new one in the pack, smart and gentle and trying to please. Trying, all the time to be better and to hold everyone else up, even if they have to step on him to get there. Derek's very pleased Danny ended in the pack. He needs one like Danny, someone who selfless.

And Stiles. Derek can't help but think of Stiles as part of the pack. In many ways, he thinks, Stiles is the glue. The one they'd all, even Jackson, fight teeth and claw to protect, almost like he's a cub they need to keep safe. Almost as if all their struggles and fighting is for Stiles benefit. Because if he wasn't there they'd all just fall apart. Derek would fall apart.

They run into a familiar scent and Isaac is waiting for them there. "It's Lydia." He says. "She isn't turned."

"All the better for us." Scott says, and Derek can only agree. They follow the scent along a clear stream, zigzagging through the trees and find her sitting naked on a flat rock in a patch of sun, apparently consumed by the mirror of her own face. Derek signals for Scott and Isaac to stay back, only getting a few more steps closer himself; They haven't forgotten what she is capable of.

In her human form she's weak, she bleeds and breaks. But her senses are still enhanced and even though she doesn't move when they close in, Derek doesn't doubt she knows they're there.

"I didn't want this, you know. To be a freak." She says with out looking up. "I just wanted to go to College, somewhere where the boys weren't scared of me because I have a brain. How am I supposed to do that as a were-lizard? I'm pretty sure that's a bigger dread factor."

"You can control it now." Derek reminds her. "You can be normal if you want."

Lydia snaps her head up and glare at him. "Do you know how it feels? When ever I feel someone who's evil or selfish or being a dick, I just want to rip their throat out!" She snarls. "I was created for vengeance and the only way I can _control_ it - as you so delicately put it - is to isolate myself in the effing forest like an effing critter!" She's furious, but she isn't turning. There is nothing here to avenge, no trigger for her. So Instead she returns her stare to the water surface. "Why are you here, Derek?"

"We need you to come with us so we can prove you're harmless. And if you're with us they can see we're harmless too. It would prove that we've done nothing wrong." Derek tries, but just then Lydia spins so fast it's almost all blur, even for the werewolves and their lycan senses.

"You put me in a room with those people and I'll kill them all!" She growls and then jumps at them, turning in the darkness into darkness, into almost invisible scales and claws and then she's gone in the night.

"We can't just keep chasing her." Isaac says. "She's faster than us."

"Yes, but I think I know where she's going." Derek can feel something that's not the chill of the night ice his blood. "And I think the hunters knows too."

They run. They run like they've never run before and Derek is secretly impressed that Scott and Isaac can keep up with him. But this? This is worth the pain of hardly being able to draw breath into your lungs, while your legs get shredded to blood on the undergrowth of the forest.

The sound of fighting draws them in, makes them run faster still. There's hunters there, fighting against the black blur of Lydia and the solid, near-human forms of Jackson and Danny. The wolves are dodging incoming shots and arrows. If Lydia takes any damage, she ignores it. Stiles, thank God, is no where to be seen.

Derek and Scott runs through the chaos, going straight for Lydia, while Isaac breaks off to take down the hunters. They know that Lydia will never stop, never stop fighting until she gets what she wants, because creature or not, Lydia's just always been that kind of person. And what Lydia want now is to not be a freak anymore.

"Scott!" The call is shrill and scared, high-pitched enough to make it through the dozen of other voices yelling around them. Allison pulls the string on her bow, but she can't fire the arrow. If she's afraid to hit Scott or Lydia, it's impossible to tell. Derek doesn't spare her any more attention. She's with Scott and in extension part of the pack, but she's not his problem right now. He needs to get Lydia subdued. He wonders if his Alpha powers will work on her.

Just then Allison makes the decision and lets the arrow go. It spins through the threes and Derek can follow it easily with his eyes. It lands and go deep into flesh and bone, and Lydia roars.

Before the hunters have even caught up to the new level of threat, Lydia sets off and leaps for Allison. Beautiful, sweet Allison who doesn't stand a chance.

But it's not Allison that gets hit by her. It's Stiles. He's there, out of nowhere - _Derek hadn't even smelled him_ - pushing Allison to the ground and taking sharp claws to the chest, like ten synchronized bullets piercing his flesh, claws ripping up the side of his skin.

Lydia rolls on the ground when she lands, stilling and then starting to shake as she changes back. Even before the naked shape of Lydia has rolled to her knees, crawling forwards towards the bleeding body of Stiles, Derek is by his side.

He doesn't even realize that he falls to his knees beside the bleeding teen; suddenly everything is just a blur. He hears Lydia crying, begging for Stiles to get up, but he shoves her aside brutally and then the rest of the pack is there, pulling her away, Allison's voice mingling in with the other hunters as they start fighting.

Derek is Alpha, he should be the one making demands and calling the shots, but instead his hands sweap over Stiles still body, searching out injuries. There's four deep cuts going from Stiles hip to his ribs and it's bleeding, it's bleeding heavily. Derek swallows. He didn't even know how much he had been fearing this. Stiles is so completely fragile and so stupidly careless with his own life.

Actually, come to think of it, Derek is pretty surprised that Stiles' managed to go this far with them with out getting killed or at least hurt. But somehow Stiles is just always fine. Except this time.

"It's okay Stiles, I've got you. I'll make it stop." He finds himself whispering as he gets to his feet, Stiles in his arms, carrying the bleeding teen to the closure of the house.

"No." Stiles chokes out. "I don't want you to turn me. I don't want that."

"Could you for once shut up? We both know you're lying."

But Stiles' huge brown eyes finds Derek's in the dim light and his stare is focused and his voice is adamant, "No, Derek. Don't."

"You're such an idiot, Stiles." Derek finds himself saying, and he's not sure where he finds the voice.

* * *

Stiles tries to keep eye contact with Derek, because he needs the werewolf to understand that he's serious.

Derek clenches his jaw. "Jackson come here!" He yells, and the rumble of it vibrates through Stiles' body and only then does he realize that he's in Derek's arms pressed against his chest.

Jackson is there in less that an second, kneeling beside the two.

"I need you to lick his wounds." Derek says slowly and clearly.

"What? no!" Stiles manages to protest, but both men just look down on him and bark in union: "Shut up Stiles!"

"Why do I have to?" Jackson asks, keeping his voice quiet.

"Because Scott is busy playing liaison and I can't do it, because I'll risk turning him."

"Fine I'll do it." Jackson squirms and his hands are on Stiles chest, opening the torn shirt. "Can you at least knock him out or something so I don't have to have him starring at me like that?"

Derek's eyes move up Stiles body, ending on his eyes.

Stiles doesn't realize until just then, that the last few minutes has been like watching a movie. Like seeing something fascinating and revolting through someone else's eyes, but now he's realizing that this is all in fact happening. He is actually bleeding to death, and just then the pain returns and he blacks out.

He comes through hours later in his own room, and for ten glorious seconds he doesn't remember a thing. But then he notices how dry his throat is and he coughs once. And then the pain in his side spikes and he almost screams.

He turns his head and almost screams a second time, but he keeps his dignity(mostly), instead just letting out a surprised yelp, when he sees Derek sitting on a chair, pulled up to the side of his bed.

His hands slowly finds his own bandaged side, fingers gently prodding around the sore wound running form his hip to his rib cage. He stops when he feels his fingertips getting wet.

"You're bleeding again." Derek confirms and the other man gets to his feet and moves Stiles' covers away to examine the bandages.

Stiles chooses to ignore the whole blood thing going on and instead tries to recall what the hell happened. "How did I get here?" he asks, and grits his teeth as Derek starts to peal of the blood-soaked bandages.

"I carried you." Derek says and continues his pealing.

It's not much in the way of explanations, but Stiles does in fact recall something like that. He remembers getting picked up gently and wind on his face making him turn his head into the warmth of something solid.

"Maybe, and I'm not saying this to be all sensible or anything, but maybe you should have taken me to the hospital."

"Your father would have asked questions. We couldn't risk it."

"And by `we´ you mean the pack, I take it." He tries not to sound too pissy, but really - this is his life they're talking about. "How about risking my life? I guess that's less important than the pack?"

"You _are_ pack." Derek says so matter of factly that it throws Stiles for a whole minute. Derek finishes removing the soaked bandages and starts cleaning away the blood with a damp towel.

When Stiles finally finds words to say again his mind has jumped to a completely different topic. "I'm going to die aren't I?"

"No." Derek says, voice controlled, but snappy.

"I'm too young to die, I haven't done any of the things on my list and I'm still in high school, I'm still a virgin and I'm going to die!" He rambles, but it's a little bit of a show, he knows that, because dying doesn't freak him out as much anymore. He's been caught up in this whole werewolf thing long enough to have faced death a few times and he's come to terms with the fact that he's a reckless human that's going to get killed by his best friend or his best friend's pack some day. So yeah, it's a bit of a show, but when Derek grumbles "Shut up." There's a slight smile on his face and it's totally worth it.

"I need to call Scott." Derek says, eye brows closing together in a frown. "I need someone to come and- " He stops himself from saying the words, but Stiles is not stupid, so when the larger man continues "- fix this." Stiles knows that Derek means that Scott has to come and put his spit all over Stiles wounds so they'll close up again. He's surprisingly uncomfortable with this fact.

"Where is Scott, he should be here on my death bed." Stiles jokes, but the glare he receives from Derek shuts him up.

"He's off with Allison. He hasn't called back."

"So he doesn't know about any of this?" Stiles asks, eyes wide.

"He knows. He's doing damage control."

"What about Jackson?"

"He and Isaac are babysitting Danny, trying to teach him how to turn back."

"So who's gonna drool on me?" Stiles asks and looks up at Derek, but Derek doesn't return his stare, just shakes his head.

"I could risk turning you." Derek says softly after a short while, and Stiles thinks perhaps this is the softest he's ever heard Derek voice go.

His own voice is equally soft when he asks, "Risk, like - how high is that risk?"

"There's always a risk when there's blood involved." Derek says, avoiding the question completely.

"How. High. Derek?" Stiles tries again, but all he gets is a quick glance from Derek.

"I'm going to try calling Scott again. Then maybe Jackson." But he doesn't. Instead he gets down on his knees next to Stiles' bed.

"I wish you'd let me bite you. I don't know how to protect you when you're like this."

Stiles doesn't know why this has become an issue for him. There was a time where he actually did want it. But not anymore, not like this. "No."

Derek sighs, and looks away from Stiles eyes, instead looking at the gashes where thick blood is still oozing at a frankly alarming speed. "Well at least this is only a 30 percent chance, so cross your fingers, kid."

And then his mouth closes over Stiles wounds and it has got to be the weirdest thing Stiles has ever felt as Derek's tongue makes it's way across the burning flesh of the wounds.

_What the hell is happening. I did not sigh up for this. Holy shit that feels weird, at least it doesn't hurt. Actually it really doesn't hurt. It's just fucking weird. If I had known I would be a part of a horror movie I would not have picked the part that gets licked to death._

Stiles inner monologue gets interrupted when Derek's phone goes off and at the same time a deep howl pierce the night and sends shivers down Stiles' whole body. Not even ten seconds later Derek's mouth is ripped from his skin and the larger man is thrown through the air and into the wall of Stiles' bedroom.

"Get away from him." Scott growles and Stiles realizes that Scott is wolfed out, feral to the bone, but still standing there, protecting Stiles from what he assumes is a threat. Derek doesn't get to his feet, he just stretches his neck to look around Scott at Stiles' closing wounds.

And they are - closing, that is. Neatly knitting together with out quite healing. And that's the best thing Stiles ever seen in his life, because that means he's still human. And alive.


	2. Chapter 2

_I can find it it my heart to forgive Lydia Martin. I can find it it my heart to forgive Lydia Martin. I can find... Oh who am I trying to kid here, I already forgave her days ago. I mean how could I not? It's not really her fault, she didn't mean to rip me open like the cute little play toy that I am. Stop! Rewind!_

_I need to get over Lydia. But how? I mean seriously... just look at her skin! Okay, just imagine the scales, imagine the claws. Imagine her almost killing you, for crying out loud! And there. Even the guy who's had eight caramel macchiatos looks at me like __I'm_ weird. You keep looking at me like that and I swear the next one won't be decaff, buddy. Just you try me!

"Stiles!" He will never get used to the way Derek is always just there out of frigging nowhere. "Pack meeting in twenty minutes."

"My shift's not over." Stiles points out for no good reason, really, because he knows Derek couldn't care less when Stiles is _supposed_ to get off from work, because in Derek Fucking Hale's world Stiles gets off from work when Derek says so.

"Either you come now or you're walking." Derek says, eyebrows raised and Stiles does not doubt that he means it.

"You're gonna get me fired." He says, voice just short of a whine, but Derek just snorts.

"You never actually _do_ any work. I'm just surprised they didn't fire you a long time ago." He points out and leaves the coffee shop with out waiting for any of Stiles' witty remarks, which okay, is rude.

Derek's Camaro is waiting outside when Stiles comes tumbling out of the back door, still in uniform, barely managing to stay on his feet, because the back door's usually stuck, but today it's not, so he used far more force than necessary to open it. Derek covers his face and exhales forcefully.

"Hah!" Stiles exclaims loudly. "Perhaps all your wolfie strength is starting to rub off on me, did you see how easily I opened that door?" He gets into the slick, black car, which is feral and dangerous and far too powerful, and Stiles always thought the car is a lot like it's owner, but that's not something he feels like sharing.

"Congratulations on opening a door." Derek says unimpressed, but really, Derek is always unimpressed. "Next step: tying your own shoelaces."

"Was that a joke? Did... did Derek Hale just make _a joke_? Did you get a heat stroke, does werewolves get heat strokes? I should have brought you some ice."

"Shut up."

And Stiles does, but he's not even trying to hide the smug smile on his face, because even if the werewolves aren't _really_ rubbing off on him, he knows that he's starting to rub off on Derek, and that's really something the rest of the pack should give him a medal for.

Okay, so Stiles knows he's not _really_ pack. He knows he can never feel the pull the wolves have between them, the tight but at times painful bond they share, but they treat him like part of the pack and Stiles is happy enough to attend some of the milder forms of pack bonding.

Like today when they are all piled together on a quilt on the patch of wild lawn behind Derek's house, while Derek works on the broken engine of Stiles' Jeep and quiz them all on the herbs and weapons which can harm a Werewolf severely. Isaac shows up with left-over pie from the pastry shop where he got a job thanks to Danny and is greeted by cheers and back pads from both Jackson and Danny.

Scott tries to feed Allison whipped cream with his finger, but she just smiles and pushes the hand away so it knocks against Scott's own nose. Allison laughes her care free laugh and kisses it away.

Danny and Isaac are sitting back to back with Jackson spread out next to them, stretching in the spring sun so his shirt leaves a gap of naked skin on his stomach. Danny tickles Jackson's bared skin with a straw of grass and blames Isaac when Jackson growls in his sleep.

Stiles has changed out of his uniform and has borrowed one of Derek's t-shirts which is pretty big on him, because, well, Derek's pretty buff these days, even bigger than when he wasn't Alpha. Stiles is using Jackson's thigh as a pillow, head popped up so he can keep an eye on Derek as he takes Stiles' Jeep apart like it's lego.

It's easy - everything is just easy, but the lack of tension is new and the way they sit together - all of them - is _very_ new. Stiles can't help but wonder at how far they've come together in such a short time.

At first, and for many weeks, there was an uneasy truce in the small and fragile pack. Scott didn't want to be there and the strained relationship between Jackson and Isaac was a disaster waiting to happen.

Years of being terrorized by his dad while Jackson just stood by, watching the whole thing play out with an indifferent shrug had burned a strong hatred into Isaac, one not just wiped away over night.

And Jackson, full of pride and ego as he was, had nursed a growing rage against Isaac for getting so easily what Jackson had to endure several bites and a long and painful detox from his aconite poisoning to get, when they learned why his body kept fighting the bite.

Even though they were in the same pack, they would make a point to avoid each other, until in the end the threat of the new hunters became so imminent that Derek called them all in for strategic meetings after school.

The two new-wolves, with their total lack of restrain and control, lasted less than an hour in each others company before they were both turning, fangs and claws and snarls, and Scott and Danny had to move Stiles and Allison outside.

Scott had turned in to his slightly more furry self - senses on high alert - leaning forward, ready to protect Stiles and Allison if he needed to, while Danny kept human, knowing that if he was forced to turn he'd add another layer of danger to the scenario.

Allison was doing stone face a lot better than Stiles ever will. She's stronger than most people he knows, but when she breaks, and of course she breaks too, maybe not that night, maybe not out in the open when the stakes are high and lives are on the line, but some times she does break and then it's that much messier, and only Scott can put her back together.

Stiles doesn't break like that, because he doesn't have a shell to break. He's always open, always bared and somehow always bleeding. Mostly he's bleeding words, but at times he's bleeding love and courage and happiness, dripping it all over the people around him until they just can't help but love him, and that's how he survives, because it's not just his heart he carries on his sleeve, it's everything and he would be so easy to pick apart, much too easy.

The sound of growling and snarls had stilled and slowly Scott relaxed and turned back, and after a few minutes Derek came outside.

"Take the humans home, Scott." He said and Stiles saw claw marks on his chest, closing up even as he growled out orders.

"The _humans_ can take themselves home, thank you." He threw back easily, because really, comebacks is what he does, because part of not having a shell to keep you safe is that you become more agile and bounce back that much faster.

So Stiles got in his Jeep and waited for Allison, who kissed Scott goodbye and took the passenger seat with a reluctant glance back at Scott. When they drove away Stiles made a point of returning Derek's stare, because Derek might be the Alpha, but if he was going to treat them as if they're outsiders then Stiles was going to make damn sure that Derek knew that his Alpha gaze of death didn't bite on him.

Next time there was a pack meeting Derek came to pick up Scott right after school. Scott slid into the Camaro with all his wolfish grace and Stiles was left standing there, feeling bitter for the grand total of ten seconds before Derek leaned over Scott to look directly at Stiles.

"I said `_pack meeting_´. Get in, Stilinski!" He ordered and Stiles had to restrain himself from doing a flailing kind of cheer, instead getting in behind Scott with a "I guess it's hard to keep up team spirit with out the mascot, hu?"

After that most things got easier, even if it's not all lazy days in the sun like today. Stiles is never first string, not even in the pack, but he's fine with that.

He knows that on some things, Derek makes a point to keep him completely in the dark, even now. He assumes it's for his own sake, but he still asked Scott what went on that night and Scott had told him that it ended with Derek telling Jackson and Isaac to wolf back up and fight it out. They both spent the rest of the day and the whole night healing, but it took out the bad blood.

If there's anything their little pack doesn't need it's disagreements and hostility. They have far too many people trying to kill them to allow for anything less than total cooperation.

They're a pack now, all of them, even if there's still things Stiles doesn't take part in for obvious reasons, such as the shirtless claw-fights and the full moon hunts, although the latter ends with a different kind of pack bonding that Stiles is more than happy to attend, when Derek and Isaac builds a huge bonfire and roast the doe they've taken down the night before over the embers.

Slowly the day draws to an end and one by one the pack dissolves, until it's just Stiles sitting on the quilt alone and Jackson and Derek working on the last few quirks on the engine of the Jeep.

Stiles doesn't listen much as they talk. He's trying to hold on to all the information he's gained today on werewolves. He makes a point to listen to all Derek has to teach on the subject and for the first time he manages to focus on a subject for a longer period of time.

The lore on werewolves he can find on the internet and in books is sketchy at best and most of it comes from cartoons and movies, so the things Derek tells them is new information, all of it.

But Stiles is also doing some observing on his own.

Like the way Jackson and Scott submitted to Derek when he broke up a fight with his Alpha roar, the way they bared their throats and chest to him when they apologized. And then there's some of the more obscene bonding rituals between the werewolves, like the licking of each other's wounds and the sharing of clothes so they all smell of the rest of the pack.

It's all how a real wolf pack would act and to be honest, once Stiles moves his research from werewolves to grey wolves he's just genuinely happy that the boys aren't peeing on each other.

Derek and Jackson isn't talking about the car anymore, Stiles' not sure how long they've been arguing. But really, with all he's learned about werewolves and wolf packs, he should have been prepared for it when he sees Derek throwing Jackson to the ground for being just that tad too cheeky, shoving him forcefully to his back and then baring his canines, bringing out long fangs and closing them purposefully and controlled around Jackson's throat. It's a display of dominance that wolves use, but even though Jackson just whimpers and apologizes, Derek looks genuinely surprised with himself when he lets Jackson go.

It's just Stiles there to see it all unfold and when Derek pulls away, looking confused, he tries to hold his breath, tries to act like he isn't there, but of course both werewolves knows he's there, he's been there all day and they can smell him and hear his heartbeat, his elated pulse. Derek blinks rapidly a few times and shakes his head like he's trying to erase something horrible from his mind and disappears out into the dusky mist gathering between the trees.

Jackson sits up, one leg bend so he can wrap his arms around it and rest his forehead against his knee, but when Stiles gets up to walk away he hears Jackson voice, small and soft like Stiles' never heard it before, but he knows it's Jackson that spoke the words, because it's just the two of them left.

"Could you do me a favour?"

Stiles nods, a few times before he finds his voice and answers so Jackson can actually hear him. He's so sure Jackson is going to ask him not to tell anyone, so when Jackson turns his head and looks over at Stiles, saying "Can I... Could you just get over here and sit for a while. Everything smells like him right now." Well yes, Stiles does think he must have heard wrong, except Jackson didn't mumble or anything. His words were pretty clear and the worst part is that Stiles even knows what Jackson means, even if he doesn't have a super nose.

It's kind of like when he's had a huge fight with his dad, all he wants is to get out, go to his room and crank the music up so loud in his earphones that he can't hear the thundering sound of blood rushing through his ears, anything to clear his mind. But here, on Derek's territory there's no running away. There's Derek's scent all over the place, soaking everything, even Jackson himself.

So Stiles walks over and sits down on the grass next to Jackson, but facing the other teen, and they lean gently to the side, into each other's weight. Jackson leans in closer, just short of resting his head on Stiles shoulder and they sit like that for a while. To Stiles it feels like hours, but he knows that's just because he's genetically incapable of sitting still for more than ten minutes with out getting restless and edgy.

"It's okay, you can leave." Jackson says, when Stiles can't help but move around, and his voice is back to it's usual strength. "I'm fine."

He doesn't say thank you, and really, Stiles wasn't expecting it. It's not like he's done anything that took an effort - much. He leaves Jackson alone in the darkness and wanders the empty house until he hears Jackson's Porsche drive away.

He finds Derek standing on the front porch.

"Heeeeey there big guy." He says, unsure if he's allowed to come closer, but deciding that he can come closer if he wants to, Derek's Alpha scowl isn't going to be a factor in where he chose to stand. "You went for a jog?"

"I don't know what the hell happened." Derek growls and Stiles can't help but reconsider the moving closer part. "I didn't..."

What ever Derek meant to say get's left unspoken in the cooling night air. Instead he turns to face Stiles, eyes flashing. "I never wanted to be that kind of Alpha."

And Stiles is not sure what to do with that information, not sure if there's different ways to be an Alpha, because as far as he's seen, Derek is right on track when it comes to general Alpha behavior.

Derek seems to be thinking hard, making up his mind about something, and Stiles just hopes what ever it is, he'll be able to match it with a joke, or a clever line that'll make Derek smile a bit, because he doesn't like Derek when he's like this, brooding and self-hating. In Stiles experience this is when Derek is most dangerous.

"You're not a werewolf." He says, and Stiles just stares.

"That's so smart. That's like, wow."

"Shut up!" Derek barks. "What I mean is, it doesn't make a difference to you if I'm Alpha or not."

"No, you're right. The fact that you can turn into an enormous black wolf doesn't entice any kind of reaction from me. At all."

"You don't bend to me because I'm your Alpha." Derek continues, and Stiles is beginning to see what he's getting at, but at this point teasing the stressed-out werewolf is becoming too much fun in a screwed up way.

"No I bend to you because you can kill me. With your teeth."

"Scott can do that too." Derek points out, and now Stiles is definitely sure where Derek is going with this.

"What do you want me to do? Lie down on the ground? Bare my throat to you? Cower?" Stiles can see Derek wince at each suggestion, as if the though of Stiles doing any of that is hurting him, but still Stiles if pretty sure that is exactly what Derek had in mind. "I guess if I want to be in the pack, I should submit to my Alpha." Stiles continue, only now he's not teasing or trying to annoy Derek. Now he's being very serious and he's sure that Derek can feel the shift as well.

"I don't want you to," Derek stops and shakes his head as Stiles words comes back to him, stabbing him all over again. "Don't want you to lie down and cower."

"What is this going to prove to you, Derek?" He asks, because if he's going to offer up his neck to this guy he wants to be damn sure Derek knows why.

"That the pack doesn't just follow me because I tell them to." Derek growls out, frustration marking up his face. "That I don't rule with fear. That I'm not..."

"What? Like Peter?"

"I didn't ask for this!" Derek growls. "I didn't want this!"

"You sure seemed happy enough in the beginning" Stiles points out.

Derek snorts because they never actually got around to talking about this, because Derek Hale doesn't make verbal apologies. And _really_? Stiles wants to go there _now_? "Becoming an Alpha is a power trip, it comes with the promotion, it's the urge to lead. Mix it with the good old Hale ego that we've already seen the effect of..." Derek seems for a moment as if he's about to reach out and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, but he stops himself, instead gripping the sooty banister of the porch. "I knew what I was doing. I'd made up my mind. I wasn't about to put this on Scott. At least I'm better equipped for this whole thing. I'm born like this. My family, my pack were all born into this." Derek moves to lean back against a blackened post, fully facing Stiles. "I've never thought I'd be an Alpha, but even then, I'd never thought I'd be turning people to get a pack. The loyalty is different and _that_ is my problem."

"And this will prove _what_?" Stiles repeats the question, because Derek is finally talking and Stiles wants him to come out and say it for once, come to terms with all his insecurities.

Derek stills, eyes skating over Stiles' face. "Of all the members in this pack you're the only one who's here completely out of free will. You're not stronger with the pack like we are, in fact you're more likely to get _killed_ while with us." Derek looks in between the trees, but Stiles is pretty sure he's not looking _at_ anything, but looking _away_ from Stiles. "If you'd be willing to do this - that means I can't be that bad."

And for once Stiles doesn't say anything. He just swallows and steps closer, leaning his head back and to the side, giving Derek free access to, well basically to his _life_.

Derek's eyes turns soft and for a moment Stiles thinks the offer had been enough, that him showing that he's willing to do it is all Derek needed, but then Derek is leaning in and there's hot breath on Stiles neck. Still, Stiles doesn't close his eyes or flinch away. He keeps still, the lack of action harder now than it's ever been before as Derek's fangs graze his skin. When the werewolf pulls away he does it gradually, nudging his nose against Stiles' neck, resting his forehead there for a short second as well before pulling away completely, leaving Stiles short of breath and slightly shaking.

"Do you have any shred of self-preservation?" Derek asks, but there's a smile there in his voice.

"You know the next time you feel insecure, let's just agree that I'll pay you a nice compliment, okay?" Stiles says, voice breaking over a few of the words, probably making him seem both younger and more scared than he is.

Derek actually does smile at that and he walks past Stiles, through the house and back to where the Jeep is parked, saying: "There's still a couple of lose bits, but I can fix it up in about twenty minutes. You should call your dad, let him know why you're late. I don't want the Sheriff here, sniffing around." Just like that, not at all like a few minutes ago he had his fangs around Stiles jugular.

But Stiles understands. Because he does that too, uses words to build up walls. So instead of calling Derek on it, he smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I still don't know how to explain to him how the car got fixed. He knows all mechanics in town."

And the spring days might be warm, but the nights get chilly, and when Stiles drives home that night he's wearing Derek's only hoodie over the t-shirt he borrowed earlier. And he feels pretty good about it.

Because it's a pack thing, wearing each other's clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so sleep might have been a good idea. I should do more of that. I like sleep, actually I love sleep. It's just that sleep and I aren't on the best of terms these days, like that one friend that you neglect too long and they get grumpy and reluctant when you ask if they want to hang out, because they feel like your back up plan?_

_Yeah, that's sleep and me these days. And it's not just because it's summer and way hotter than it has any right to, even during the night, it's also that, well with all that's going on right now, there just isn't that much time for sleep. And apparently werewolves are fine with just a few hours of lazy lying around in the afternoon sun after a long night of running for your life and trying to survive. But I'm not. I'm so very, very tired._

Stiles is leaning across the counter, cheek pressed against the cold glass. The Coffee Shop is almost empty, just a few regulars left and three younger teens laughing at a table by the door; even abnormally-large-bladder guy has gone home.

Stiles is 97 percent sure he never managed to drift off (okay maybe for like a _minute_), but regardless he's suddenly very awake when a low "pssst" sound behind him makes him stumble as he tries to push himself off the counter and spin around in the same motion.

And okay, perhaps he's a bit worked up these days, but it's not his fault. Because there's werewolves and hunters and mean managers breathing down his neck 24/7, and Stiles is just waiting for the moment to come where all of the above gets sick of him and realize that he's more bother than he's worth.

Luckily the one who made the "pssst" sound only falls into one of those categories, and even that is not by choice.

"Calm down, dude." Scott says and looks a bit taken aback by Stiles' sudden flailing. "When was the last time you slept man? You look wrecked!"

Stiles wipes a hand down his face, blinking excessively. "Pff, sleep, sleep is for normal teens with out best friends who turns into werewolves and have girlfriends who's family wants to exterminate said best friend." Stiles counters and suddenly feel both awake and slightly edgy. "I had like an hour before school, two days ago, I'm all rested."

"Dude, just quit this stupid job." Scott says and wraps a hand around Stiles' neck. It's a new thing he's started doing, and Stiles secretly thinks it's a wolf thing. "It's not like you're using the money for anything anyway."

Stiles dodges the not-question by ducking out of Scott's grip and turning back towards the counter just as the three teens leave as the last customers. "So what's new?"

Scott is smart enough to notice and accept the dismissal of the subject, and instead helps Stiles close up the coffee shop. "Well, Allison called. She's found out where they're holding Lydia."

Stiles head jerks towards Scott. "She's alive?"

"Yeah, Allison overheard her psycho granddad and her mom talk about it." Scott confirms. "She called me."

Stiles' mind is spinning slightly, adapting to this new information that, quite frankly, he never expected to get. Ever since that night, the night he debuted as Lydia's pincushion, he's been expecting the call to come in on his dad's police radio. `Naked body of girl found in the forest.´

His dad had the state troopers come down and help find Lydia, but with no luck, obviously. Because Stiles knows that Lydia didn't get lost in the woods again, didn't run away and have another mental break down, but he's not about to tell his dad that.

Even if he really wants to. Because his dad has spent more than one night, sitting up looking through maps of the area, while drinking more than his share of Jack D. Because it's his job to keep the people in the town safe, and even if there was nothing he could have done to save Lydia, he doesn't know that and he'll never stop blaming himself, because he's just that kind of man. The kind of man who gives a shit. So, yeah. Stiles just want to fill him in on the whole thing, so his dad won't blame himself.

But he can't. He can't tell his dad that Lydia got dragged away by hunters, hunters who just happen to be respectable members of the community, who's rich and influential and could get his father fired if they wanted to.

And yes, he would have though they would have killed her by now, because he watched her fight against a dozen hunters and four werewolves, deflect bullets and arrows like they were daises and even had first-hand experience with her claws, and honestly he hadn't expected the Argents to have anywhere secure enough to hold her for this long.

And why would they even keep her? It's been almost a month.

"Scott?" Stiles locks the door and starts walking towards the back room. "How exactly did Allison overhear this?"

"Umm, I'm not sure?" Scott somehow manages to turn it to a question, and Stiles is not sure what to answer, because he's on thin ice with this and the last thing he wants is to offend Scott.

"I don't know, it just… Does it seem at all weird to you? Like, why would they let Allison overhear something like that? They know Lydia was her friend, and she said it herself, that she felt her granddad was on to her."

"Are you saying they'd let it slip as a trap for her?"

"Or a trap for you." Stiles says quietly as they walk through the darkness of the back room. Stiles opens his locker and starts to change out of his uniform.

"But Allison and her dad are the only ones who knows about me. And Allison said they hadn't said anything to her granddad, you know, because of the whole slay-them-all-approach." Scott argues, and Stiles agrees completely. It's just that there's something very wrong in all of this and he's pretty sure that if he could just sleep, could just get rested for once he'd be able to suss out what the problem is.

"Yeah, you're right." He says instead, deciding to keep his mouth shut, because he's sure Allison wouldn't make a mistake about something like this, would never endanger Scott or the Pack, and she's smart, smart enough to lie to keep a secret and know when people are lying to her in return.

"You think they've been, you know, trying to get Lydia to rat out the pack?" Stiles ask, because apparently he likes to torture himself tonight. "You think they hurt her to get her to talk?"

Scott stops and looks at Stiles with enough shock and fear on his face, that Stiles is pretty sure Scott never even considered that. "I…" Scott says, but nothing more than that.

"Yeah, that not very helpful to think about right now." Stiles says and shuts his locker. "Did Allison say where they were keeping her?"

"Yeah, she did. I called Jackson and Danny, they said they'd meet us there." Scott says and blinks against the low evening sun when they walk out on the parking lot.

"What about Derek?"

"He's not picking up, and you know he won't. Not in the next few days."

Stiles had almost forgotten, it's the anniversary of the night that Derek's family burned to death inside their house, and suddenly Stiles feels really creeped out about the fact that Derek is still living there, on the grave site of his family.

"So what's the plan?" Stiles jumps into the jeep and starts her up.

"Plan?"

"Yeah, plan. Intentions. Tactics." Stiles isn't sure what he was expecting, really. The blank look of a goldfish on Scott's face should have been what he was expecting, and he can't help but smile. Because, yeah. The Pack really needs him.

* * *

Derek smells the blood before he hears the faint drag of feet up the stairs. He smells the blood because it's Stiles, because Stiles is as familiar to him as any of the wolf boys, even if his scent doesn't reach out to Derek the way the Werewolves' does. He's still Pack and he's been through plenty of pack bonding and Derek is used to Stiles' smell.

Or more than used to it, really. It's comforting, even if Derek would never admit to it.

What isn't comforting is the strong smell of Stiles' blood that tears him from his attempt at meditating to keep the pain in his chest from triggering the wolf. Even before he rips the door open and sees Stiles there, swaying from blood loss and pain; even before he darts forward to catch Stiles before the teen collapses; even before he knows what's happened his pulse is rising, anger mixing with adrenalin and fear.

"Stiles?" He manages to keep his voice steady and strong, because that's what he does. "Stiles!"

A quick glance tells him that there's a cross bow arrow buried deep in Stiles' shoulder and wounds in his thigh that could be bullet wounds, possibly knife wounds - it's hard to tell with out a closer look.

He shifts his grip to get a better hold on the teen, ending up sweeping him off the ground and carrying him inside and upstairs to his own room.

"Stiles, talk to me!" He demands, placing Stiles on the bed and slapping him conscious, because he _needs_ to know. He needs to know if they're fighting or running. He needs to know if Scott is okay, if the pack is okay, because Derek is responsible for all of them and right now Stiles is the only source of information he has. "Tell me what happened."

"Scott and…" Stiles coughs, but continues with out Derek having to tell him to. "Jackson and Danny. They ran, led them away. I hid." Stiles makes a grimace of pain and shame. "I just hid."

"You're wounded." Derek says, and it's a reminder to Stiles that he couldn't have done anything to help the werewolves in this state, but it's also a reminder to himself, that Stiles is bleeding out right in front of him. He gets up and digs around for a towel that can qualify as clean-ish, returning to the bed and starting to strip the blood caked clothes off Stiles shaking body.

"Lie still." He demands, steady hands doing quick work of Stiles belt, dragging the baggy jeans down past the wounds with rough determination that makes Stiles winch, but to his praise the teen manages to force the scream down and keep mostly quiet.

The wounds are bullet holes, two of them close together, meant to take him down and pacify, but the bullets have gone clean through and Derek dries the pale skin of Stiles' thigh mostly clean of blood, glad to see that the flow of blood isn't very heavy.

"Stay with me Stiles. Tell me who they were." Derek presses on, because Stiles is dozing off and Derek needs to know who he's about to go chase down and maim and kill painfully. "The Argents?"

"Didn't know their voices, must have been though." Stiles' voice is surprisingly steady, but he has to stop and take deep breaths before he continues, hands reaching out and finding purchase on Derek's arm. "Don't think they were…" Deep breath. "Shooting to kill."

Derek nods and lowers his eyes back to Stiles' injuries. He's not sure what to do with the arrow. If Stiles had been a werewolf he would have pulled it out so it could heal up, but right now it's holding the wound closed, stopping the bleeding like a plug, so he leaves it in, instead returning his attention to the bullet holes.

"Stiles?" He doesn't actually need to ask, he knows the answer, but if he's honest with himself, if it comes down to Stiles bleeding out in front of his eyes, he wouldn't even give the human a choice. As it is, there are still other options than biting him, even if that option has a 30% chance of ending with the same result. "I need you to keep awake for just a little while longer."

Stiles' head lulls to the side against the head board, clouded brown eyes looking up at Derek with nothing but trust and exhaustion.

"I need to find out what happened to the others. I have to go out there, but I can't leave…" He gestures towards Stiles thigh and the slowly oozing wounds there.

"Just drool where ever you want." Stiles says with a weak smile. "You already stripped all my clothes off. Again."

Derek almost smiles. Except smiling isn't a thing he does, and now is not the time to start. Instead he nods and dries the wounds off again. The smell of Stiles' blood is overwhelming as he lowers his head and covers the wounds with his mouth, careful to keep his fangs to himself.

It takes time, he knows this, but every second he spends with his lips against Stiles' skin increases the risk of infecting him, and could be a second closer to someone else in his pack getting caught or killed. So he stops sooner than he would like to, leaving behind a light pink mixture of saliva and blood, pushing Stiles' leg up, so he can reach the exit wounds at the soft inside of his thigh.

Stiles can't help but flinch and let out a badly contained sob when Derek's mouth makes contact with the open wound there. "I am really, really never getting used to this." He mumbles and grits his teeth against the pain when Derek pulls off again.

"You're still missing a lot of blood and you're body temperature is much too low." Derek reaches over Stiles and grabs the blanket piled there and pulls it to cover Stiles, before casting a last glance at the slightly closed-up wounds. When his eyes returns to Stiles' face he notice that the teen has dozed off. He listens to his breathing and heartbeat for a minute, before he grabs his phone and leaves the house, following the strong scent of Stiles' blood through the forest.

Unfortunately the trace of Stiles' blood ends on the driver's side seat of his Jeep, parked between the trees just off the road leading to Derek's house.

He considers calling one of the boys, but knows well enough that a damn phone can easily give away a hiding wolf. So instead he resorts to something he know is potentially equally dangerous and stupid when there's hunters involved: He changes to full wolf, sit back on his haunches and howls.

It's deep and thunderous in his own ears, and even though it's not the first time he does it he hasn't gotten used to how different it sounds, how the Alpha shape just makes it that much more feral.

The reply from Isaac is almost instant, a low howl loaded with concern and question, and Derek digs out his phone and calls Isaac who picks up on the first ring.  
"Get here." Derek growls and Isaac doesn't question, because Isaac is scarily good at taking orders. Instead the teen just grunts in confirmation and hangs up. Derek is glad he has Isaac for this, glad he's not on his own.

There's no reply from any of the other wolves, and instead Derek sets of in a sprint towards town, keeping to the woods along the road, paws digging in to soft dirt as the night around him darkens.

Four minutes later there's a weak howl, barely more than a whimper, from somewhere between himself and town. It's Danny and he's close, getting closer. The wolf meets the teen half way to town and even before they can see each other Derek can smell blood, not all of it Danny's.

Derek changes to human while running, stopping in front of Danny and grabbing hold of his shoulders to steady him.

He's burning to growl and demand answers, but he knows Danny is smart enough to know what's expected of him; he needs a second to catch his breath and focus through the pain, so instead Derek waits, using the time to asses Danny's injuries.

"I think Jackson and Scott are okay, we ran in each our direction." Danny almost tumbles over, but Derek keeps him upright. " And I was the one who was worst off. Except for Stiles. Is he…?"

Clearly Danny can smell Stiles blood all over Derek, but he can't read the state of the teen on Derek's face. Derek, however, is pretty sure even someone as unobservant as Scott would be able to see it on his face if Stiles had died.

"He's weak, stable." He grits out and nods to get Danny to continue, because most of his pack have gotten themselves into more than normal danger, and he needs to know what the reason is.

"We were there to sniff out Lydia. Allison had an address, a storage house where they were keeping her. We didn't bring Isaac, because he didn't know Lydia, and we weren't going to do anything, anyway. Stiles... Stiles said it was too dangerous."

"And somehow you still managed to get noticed and shot at?" He growls and Danny isn't backing away, but that's only because Derek is all that's keeping the teen from slipping to the ground in exhaustion.

Danny swallows, brown eyes not shifting away form Derek's once. "It was a trap. They were waiting for us there."

Derek's just about to ask how Allison had gotten hold of the address to begin with when a second howl pierce the night a few miles further into the woods, strong and vital.

It's Jackson and he's moving fast. Derek can only assume he's mostly uninjured and Danny seems to make the same conclusion, sort of sagging in on himself, leaning against Derek's chest with his forehead, when he realizes that his friend is safe. Jackson changes direction when he catches their scent, the smell of blood strong enough to draw him in, even if he hadn't been looking for it.

"They took Scott." Jackson says as he tumbles out from between the trees . "I saw him go down, I think they hit him with Wolf's Bane." At that moment Derek feels the same odd mixture of ice and fire run through his veins that he's come to know so well. It slows down the world and Derek can suddenly feel the night around him give way and make room, allowing him to breath in and think. When he exhales a second later the bubble bursts but it's okay, because he's calm and collected his eyes flash red without effort as the Alpha takes over his head. He moves one hand from Danny's shoulder to cup his cheek and tilt his head up. "Are you with us Danny?"

Danny nods. "I'm not fit for a counter attack yet." He admits, but Jackson just growls and moves in behind Danny, putting arms around him and pulling him back so they end up on the ground, Danny in Jackson's lap. "I'll get him ready." Jackson says to Derek and the Alpha nods and takes a step back, giving the teens as much privacy as he can manage.

He hears Danny whimper as Jackson pulls out one of the cross bow arrows in his thigh and Danny's hand finds Jackson's, fingers knitting roughly together to fight off the pain. When Jackson pulls out the arrow in his shoulder Danny is silent and Derek watches as Jackson lowers his mouth to the wound, and the cleaning is more of a kiss to the sore flesh than any thing else.

It takes a couple of more minutes for Danny to get back to something close to fighting shape, and Derek is getting edgy, thinking about their chances of saving Scott before the hunters bring their trophy back to Granddad Argent, and Stiles, who's condition is critical at best. But just then, as Jackson and Danny gets to their feet, his phone starts to buzz and he drags it out again to see it's Isaac calling.

"Yes?"

"I should have called first, but I had to make a quick decision." Isaac says and Derek can actually hear it in his voice before he says the words. "I caught Scott's scent about ten minutes ago, and I had to check up on it. I ran right into the hunters holding him, literally stumbled in to their car as they were dragging him into it, so I took them out. They were completely unprepared."

Derek closes his eyes and swallows. He opens his eyes to see Danny and Jackson standing right in front of him, eyes asking if they heard correct.

"I've got him here, but I'm not sure for how long. He's been poisoned." Isaac continues.

Derek's not sure if he's deserved this. When ever something bad happens he can't help but just shrug and think, `Well, it was bound to happen, luck like mine.´ But stuff like this, his pack making it through on shear damn luck, it's not something he expects, or even really believe has actually happened.

And he doesn't believe it this time either, not until he pulls up in his Camaro next to where Isaac is waiting with the nearly lifeless body of Scott. Jackson and Isaac help each other get Scott in on the back seat where Danny starts treating the Wolf's Bane poisoning right away, while Derek drives literally as fast as the car can go, back to the black ruins of his old house, back to an equally nearly lifeless Stiles.

They lie Scott down in the bed next to Stiles, one teen paler than the other, and for a few minutes the rest of them just stand there looking at them.

Jackson is the first to leave and retreat to the living room, but Derek knows that it's not because he doesn't care. Jackson knows first hand how painful the detox of an aconite poisoning is, having been through one to get turned. The poisoning had been bad, left him hallucinating and weak, but he had gotten better. It wasn't until the bite didn't stick, until Derek got tired of having to bite him over and over with the same result, that Derek had put him through the detox process. Jackson had never before been so scared of actually dying.

Watching Scott now, toss helplessly on the bed, sweat beading all over his body as he screams in pain, Jackson can't take it, and Derek understands, they all do.

Isaac is the next to leave. He heads for Derek's sparse store of food, and Derek can hear him actually starting to cook. When Danny is sure there is nothing more he can do for either Scott or Stiles he leaves as well, going for the couch and passing out when his head hits the soft armrest.

Derek moves to sit down on the bed on Stiles' side. The arrow in his shoulder has been removed, Danny closed it up, and Derek can't help but wish he could have done it. It feels like something he should be doing, after all Alpha enzymes are far better at healing up wounds. But he can't keep risking turning Stiles as long as Stiles doesn't want it.

Derek reaches down, letting the pad of his thumb stroke the wound. It's still there, not closing up, but not bleeding either. He tries not to think about it, tries not to think how, as if his life is just supposed to run in loops, he was so very close to having another family burn and die in front of him tonight.

Tonight of all nights.

But even though somehow it all worked out and they're all still alive, Derek knows that their days of peace, of truce with the Argents, has passed. His Pack had been lured into a trap and someone had tried to take away his family again. Derek is already preparing for a real war, planning how to get all of them through this alive, planning how exactly he's going to make the people responsible pay for this in the most painful ways imaginable.

Derek looks down on his thumb still circling the wound in Stiles' shoulder. He doesn't even think about it when his hand moves up and runs over Stiles' short hair, again and again, so very gently, just to make sure the teen is still there, still alive and breathing.

* * *

A/N

I've been getting some really amazing reviews and I just wanted to thank you all. Honestly, I write for myself. I write because I want to read the story, but there is nothing that beats the fact that someone else likes what you create, so thank you so much.

I was getting a few comments on Lydia and as you can see I haven't forgotten her. But I am trying to keep this as close to the show as possible, so I'm a little unwilling to do much plot-wise until after next episode. Also, I might return to correct a few things at that point if I can manage to fit mine to follow the plot of the show better.


	4. Interlude

**Interlude**

* * *

Stiles is not a fast healer which is really inconvenient, because Stiles has always had a tendency to scrape his knees and walk head first into things like doors and walls and really just all immobile things in his path. But apart from the one time he fell out of a tree when he was eight and broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder, Stiles has never gotten seriously injured.

Not until Scott managed to get bitten by a werewolf, suddenly flipping Stiles' world one-eighty until everything was werewolves and hunters and poisoned bullets, late-night stakeouts and running from your life with frigging arrows flying around your ears.

But Stiles isn't complaining, because yeah, he might be taking a few hits now and then, but for some odd reason, that he's really not looking to examine further, he's actually enjoying the whole thing. Okay, maybe not the part where his best friend was trying to kill him, the part where the old Alpha was trying to kill him, or when Lydia was trying to kill him, or the hunters were try... well there seems to be a lot of attempts on his life, but he's alive and fine now, and the parts where he's not hunted like a rabid dog are pretty enjoyable.

What he's not enjoying is lying to his dad about where he goes and with who; about why he's suddenly always wearing a shirt, even when he comes out of the shower, even when it's sunny outside; why he's winching when his father one day grabs his shoulder to ask why he's limping up the stairs.

Stiles lets his father make his own deductions on that limping part, which might not have been such a good idea, because the next night his dad casually asks if he's correct about Stiles hanging out with Danny a lot these days.

And actually he _is_ spending a lot of time with Danny, especially in the days after the total and complete catastrophe that had Derek shouting at them for hours once they were all awake enough to fully appreciate the full impact of his fury. And Stiles has to admit that when he asked Danny once upon a time if Danny found him attractive, Stiles had not expected a day to come where Danny would end up with his tongue and lips on Stiles skin - several times - even if it is just for healing purposes.

Derek explains that while all werewolves might have enzymes with regenerating abilities in their spit it takes quite some time for a Beta or lower ranking werewolf to heal up a wound on someone who doesn't have his own sped-up regeneration to support it. An Alpha, Derek casually adds, can close up a wound within minutes and even heal minor scratches and wounds with the moisture of his breath.

"Tell me about it." Jackson says, hand going unconsciously to the scar in the back of his neck. It will always be there; scar tissue formed before you were turned will never fully go away. The only one of them who doesn't have a single scar on his body is Derek, who's been healing up since before he could get carpet burns from crawling around.

Derek doesn't offer his superior healing saliva to heal up Stiles' wounds, however, but Stiles can see the offer on his face. For days after Stiles had been bleeding out on Derek's bed, Derek's face had one and only one expression when he was looking at Stiles. It was the "_Please let me turn you, you fucking idiot child, so I don't have to see you dying in front of me again_"-look.

Stiles ignores it.

Actually, ignoring things becomes a discipline the pack could qualify for the Olympics in.

Danny is ignoring Jackson and Jackson is ignoring the way that Danny is ignoring him, instead acting like they are still the best friends they had always been and nothing has changed between them. Stiles doesn't have the full story. It is one of the things that Derek felt compelled to keep Stiles in the dark about, just like most of the other gory details about that night. But he's seen enough predictable teen movies to get what's going on. When both parties in a drama can smell the other persons every mood change, it's hard to keep pretending.

And then there is Scott and Allison, and that is a whole other ball game of ignoring and pretending and dancing around each other. Allison had showed up in full blown panic at first light the day after the, well _The Screw Up, _capital initials. And while no one would dream of blaming her, at least not out loud, there was a subtle shadow of _something_ starting to crackle.

Stiles had tried talking to Scott about it, attempting to air his concerns with out pointing fingers, because Allison had been genuinely horrified about what had happened that night; five sets of werewolf senses had cleared her.

But there was still the bit about it being a trap. The Argents had known Allison would overhear the information, and known she would pass it on, which meant that both her mother and her genocide-loving granddad must have known or at least suspected about Scott.

"Well you said it yourself Stiles." Scott points out. "They could have been forcing information from Lydia. She knew all about us."

"I thought we were ignoring the whole "Lydia got tortured for information"-approach." Stiles says, feeling the heat rush to his face again. Honestly, he isn't sure what he'll do to those people if they have been torturing Lydia.

"No one is ignoring anything." Scott says and Stiles sorta might end up coughing blood up by the time he is done laughing, because really, it is only Scott in the whole world who can be so absolutely obtuse.

A thing they can bond over as a pack for the next few days is finding a new safe place. The morning after _The Screw Up_ Derek packs up his few belongings in his car and they leave the Hale house behind them. While the truce lasted, while Allison and her father were the only hunters who knew about the pack, it had been safe. Sure there had been booby traps and trip wires surrounding the place, but nothing they couldn't avoid. But now Derek makes the call and moves them out of there, even if Stiles can see it really bothers him.

Stiles is the one who ends up having the best idea, which isn't really a surprise to him. What better place to hide a pack of unruly and most-wanted werewolves away from hunters, than to set up tent under the nose and watchful eye of the town Sheriff? Unsurprisingly, Derek think's it's a horrible idea, mostly, Stiles assumes, it has to do with the fact that Derek has to sleep in the tree house Stiles and Scott build with Stiles' father right after Scott and his mom came to town and two of them became friends.

It's old and unkempt, but the roof doesn't leak and the floor isn't rotten, and the house can actually hold the entire giant body of Derek Hale, so Stiles tells him not to be a sour wolf and Derek moves in that night.

For the most part they're able to have their pack meetings in Stiles' back yard in the afternoons when the Sheriff is at work, but it helps flexibility of their meetings that all of the attending members can climb in through Stiles' window if necessary.

One time, about a week after _The Screw Up_ Derek mentions that he's considering moving in with Isaac in his appartement in town, but Stiles knows how to play kicked puppy when he wants to, and Derek ends up staying in the tree house.

"Only until winter." Derek says offhandedly but firmly, and Stiles just nods like it's no big deal, and really it shouldn't be. It _shouldn't_.

Four days later Isaac's apartment gets ransacked and Isaac turns up dead on the porch of the old Hale house.

* * *

A/N: Again thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter and oh my god, did I just drop a bomb for next chapter in that last line! I am so sorry about that, except not really.

This was a really text heavy chapter, so I made it into a short Interlude instead, a bridge of sorts to bring us to the next chapter that will have far more action! And some for the Danny/Jackson shippers if there are some of those here(I honestly hadn't planned it, which is why it doesn't show up as a couple on the AO3 version of this story. They just hit me out of nowhere!)


	5. Chapter 5

_You kinda know your life is screwed up when you're at work, and your friend's dad walks in and your first though is `Oh God, Oh God, Please don't kill me.´_

_I mean, I took this job when Derek told me to quit lacrosse, and mostly it was to have just a shred of normalcy in my life. But yeah, the thing about normalcy… doesn't really work well with the rest of my life. Guess it's a good thing then that this is my last day at work._

_I would like to have been here 'till the end of my shift though._

Stiles isn't really that afraid of Chris Argent. He knows he probably should be. Because Stiles might not be a werewolf, but he's the weak link. He's the one who carries all the information, and none of the superpowers, and he might be able to pull off sassy wit in front of Allison's dad, but he's not sure he'd last long against her granddad.

But Chris is decent. He keeps to the code, like a _good ol' __pirate_ and even owes Stiles a debt for saving his ass, so Stiles feels pretty safe around the hunter.

"I need to talk to Derek." Chris says. "You need to take me to him."

"You're not really all that into foreplay are you?" Stiles deadpans and receives a Derek-worthy death glare in return. "Look, I know none of you care, but I have a job to do here. I can't just go skipping off when you feel like it."

Chris huffs out a low laugh. "What are they gonna do, _fire you_?"

Stiles closes his eyes, considering making a scene to make the hunter go away, but in the end he clenches his jaw angrily and goes to change his clothes.

Chris is waiting for him in the rain, when he stumbles out of the back door, and Stiles can't help but notice that the man is alone, none of his usual hunter footmen having his back.

"So you know I quit my job. Is there anything in my personal life that's a secret?" Stiles ask, pulling his jacket up to cover his head.

"How exactly did your Boa die?" Chris shoots back with a badly concealed grin.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Stiles mocks. "So what's with the broad daylight kidnapping?"

"As I said, I need you to take me to Derek." Chris repeats and points to his car, a gesture to make Stiles get in instead of standing in the rain.

"Go find him yourself!" And okay, that might have come out sounding more like an incredulous child, than a manly order.

"You and me both know he won't be found. But unlike me, you know where he's hiding now. He's left his house, and for good reason. My father won't stop hunting all of them and I can't go against my father anymore than Scott can go against Derek. But I _can _exploit every loop hole I'm given."

"And we're supposed to trust you why? The last time we trusted intel from your end we almost ended up dead!" Stiles didn't mean to raise his voice. A couple of people walking past stares at them from under their umbrellas.

"Get in the car, Stiles." Chris says with a lowered voice. "There is no reason for your father to get reports of his underage son being forced into a car by a grown man, but I swear to God I will if I have to!"

Stiles breathes in, making an effort to project enough reluctant surrender before he walks around the car and gets in. "Fine! Just… just don't kill me or anything."

"So tell me," Chris says as he navigate through traffic. "What made Scott change his mind about joining the pack? I would have though his feelings for my daughter would be enough for him to keep his head down."

"Quid pro quo." Stiles deflects, because he's not about to give up information for free.

Chris Argent smiles. "I almost forgot how pesky you can be."

"Yeah, enough with the sweet talk. Riddle me this: Allison overhears a bit of vital information, that leads us right into a trap…"

Chris swings the steering wheal so hard that Stiles bump into the car door, just to be thrown forwards in his seat belt when the Hunter hits the breaks. "We had nothing to do with that." Chris sneers and turns to face Stiles, finger raised. "That was all on my father and I don't know how he swung it. He doesn't know about Scott. If he did Scott would be dead."

"Unless he could lead the hunters to the rest of the pack. Which he did. And we almost ended up dead!" Stiles shouts back, anger replacing any shred of fear he might have felt before. "And for the record, it was your father _and _that Amazon wife your yours. So tell me, tell me _how_ they knew just how to hit us unless you or Allison told them!"

"What are you talking about? My wife knows about Scott, she's know as long as I have; I have no secrets from her. But I can promise you that she is a hundred percent loyal to me."

"Yeah?" Stiles snorts and lick his lips nervously. "You sure about that?"

Chris is doing his best imitation of a thunder cloud and Stiles might have a big mouth, but he also - mostly - know when to keep it shut, so instead he holds the angry stare in silence until, slowly, Chris looks away and calms himself down.

"My turn." Stiles says, because he's nothing if not fair. "Scott joined Derek's pack because Derek stopped being the worst option. It's that simple. They had to join forces to save our asses, remember that? Remember Allison? Remember Derek _saving_ Allison? That was what tipped Scott's loyalty. Derek realized he wasn't really in control anymore, that everything was slipping out of his hands. He made the right call for once and that was really the turning point for us all."

"Unfortunately my father doesn't see it that way."

"Yeah, and you might want to look into that. He goes on a slaughter spree when a werewolf kills his daughter, but when another werewolf, an innocent one, saves his granddaughter it's meaningless."

"I don't know what is is with him and the Hales." Chris admits and starts the car up again. "It seems very personal."

Stiles snorts. "Tell me about it." His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. They'v all put them on silent setting, orders from Derek. And speaking off the devil. "Yeah?"

"Get here." Derek growls, voice rough and feral like Stiles haven't heard it before.

"What's up?" Stiles looks over at Chris, suddenly feeling fear creep in again.

"It's Isaac." Derek growls, voice close to a whisper. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone how?"

"They've taken him." Derek's voice is even, but Stiles can hear him breaking down. Stiles is full on staring at Chris now, expecting him to admit that he is in fact kidnapping Stiles, because they've decided to kidnap them all and lock them in the Hale house and burn them alive, and oh my god if that isn't a nightmare Stiles' had for a while now. But Chris just looks at him, question on his face. Derek takes a deep breath on the other end of the line. "There's blood in his apartment. He's gone, Stiles."

Stiles tries to get Chris to stay in the car, but Chris just says that if Derek really decides to take it out on him, the car wont be much worth as protection anyway.

As it tunes out, Derek doesn't need to get into an avenging mood, because Chris is barely through the door of Stiles' house before Jackson and Danny are on him. It's only Derek's Alpha roar that saves Chris from anything worse than a punch in the face. Derek pulls him to his feet by his arm and shoves him into a kitchen chair.

"Tell me where he is." Derek says, leaning down and pinning Chris to the chair with both hands by gripping the back of the chair on either side of the hunter's head. His voice is cold and calm and his face is pale as he leans in, stopping barely two inches from Chris' face.

Chris Argent is equally calm when he looks Derek directly in the eyes. "He could be in the basement of our house, but more likely he's been taken to a nearby town. If so it would take days to track him down. If he's still alive, he won't be when you find him. And I can't help you. I didn't know anything about it, so apparently my father no longer trust me."

Derek pulls back with a hiss, leaving claw marks on the back of the chair. He doesn't need to tell the pack that Chris isn't lying. They can all feel the man's heart beat and see his eyes. Stiles, on the other hand, only have the collective mood of the pack to go on.

"Okay," Stiles tries, because the tension in the room isn't going down. "So how did they get him?"

"They had spayed Wolf's Bane in through the vent, poisoned him in his sleep."

"How do you…? Oh." And then Stiles finally realizes why Derek is so pale, why his voice breaks and he kept away from Chris when he entered. He can't control the wolf. It's clawing to get out and fight against the poisoning. "You got poisoned too, when you went in there."

"I'm fine!" Derek growls, and it's the same exasperated voice he uses when he says "Shut up!" and "You idiot!" so Stiles might feel a bit of offence, but then something dawns on him. "You could have been in there too. You could have been living there right now."

Derek looks like he might make good of the old threat of ripping Stiles throat out. _With his teeth_. But instead he collapses to the floor.

* * *

When Derek comes to he's lying in Stiles' bed, and the smell of the teen keeps him calm and grounded. He's surprised, really, that he's still alive - and not because of the poisoning.

Downstairs is a Hunter and three werewolves that could have taken advantage of his weakened state and claimed the role of Alpha. That he's still alive, well, he's not sure he can fully grasp what he feels about that.

He sits up slowly, but there is no problem with his balance, he seems perfectly healthy and fine, except for the burning sensation of the aconite detox still running through his veins.

When he enters the kitchen he's met with six faces that turns to him with curiosity and concern. Allison is sitting next to Scott and the two of them are talking to her dad. Stiles is cooking something that smells of spices and his stomach starts to rumble. Danny is sitting on the kitchen counter, Jackson in front of him and the two are clearly in the middle of a hushed argument, but everyone stops what they are doing when he walks through the door.

"Hey, buddy." Stiles offers, and start chopping up salad.

Derek fights the urge to grab the sharp knife from his hands, instead settling on a nod as reply and then turning to Chris Argent. "You saved me."

The hunter doesn't answer at first, instead looking to Scott for something, a signal of sorts, he assumes. Scott doesn't move and in the end Argent nods. "I had the Wolf's Bane in my car. The boys were the ones who knew how to use it."

"You saved me." Derek repeats, because this is something that needs clarifying. "So I guess You don't owe me anything anymore. You can kill me with out feeling guilty about it."

There's another pause where Argent looks at the floor, when his eyes find Derek's there's a pain there, the pain of old hate dying. "I don't think I could kill an innocent man with out feeling guilty about it, much less a good man."

And Derek might be a man of few words, but he's never been shocked into silence before. So that's why. That's why everything seems so calm, so carefree and peaceful.

For once Derek doesn't have to wonder who'd turn on him at first chance given. The pack didn't kill him and these two Argents are on their side as well. Derek feels slightly overwhelmed.

"What about Isaac?" He asks, because apparently quite a lot has been going on while he was out cold.

"Isaac's dead." Argent says quickly, cutting over Allison as she opens her mouth, and it might be true - Chris Argent's heart rate says it is - but there's something else there, brought to his attention by Allison's heart. So he steps in close, kneeling in front of the girl, so close that Scott reacts to it, jealousy and fear for her safety making the Beta's heart pick up in pace.

"Allison." Derek says, and he knows that he's being unfair, because Allison might have a great deal more confidence than Erica had, but no girl is truly immune to the voice he uses now and the way he looks into her eyes like she's the most important person in the world. "Tell me about Isaac."

Allison swallows, pulse so high she might have been terrified, but it's not just the smell of fear that comes from her, although there's definitely fear there.

"They brought him to our house." She starts, voice a little choked up. "They took him to the basement and tied him up. He was bleeding and shaking. The poisoning, he was almost dead." Her voice cracks and Derek knows what's coming next, knows the second Scott's hand tighten reassuringly around hers, knows when her father leans in from behind her and places a hand on her shoulder. They are with her, an extension of her and they want both her and Derek to know this. It's basic body language, and Derek is fluent.

Allison draws in a breath and finds the strength to say the words somewhere behind her closed eyes. When she opens them she looks straight into Derek's. "They told me to shoot him, and I did. I killed him."

Derek doesn't move. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Scott looking at him, confused by the lack of reaction, confused because Derek isn't getting angry. But Derek isn't angry, he doesn't even feel upset.

He liked Isaac, Isaac was his because the teen had chosen to be. There had never been a moment where Isaac had considered being anything else than part of Derek's pack. Derek isn't sure what it says about him, that his eyes isn't welling up with tears, that he isn't choking up and getting furious.

He didn't feel much when Erica died either. Perhaps the Alpha's burned the ability to love out of him. But then he looks at Stiles and thinks perhaps that's not quite true.

"Where is he now?" he asks, getting to his feet and walking trough the kitchen to take a closer look at the food Stiles was making before the teen got caught up in their conversation and froze somewhere in the middle of cutting up cucumber.

"They took him to your old house." Allison answers, her voice still unsure, but steady. "They left him for you with a message cut into his skin."

"What did it say?"

"_Come play_."

Derek allows a small, bitter smile, and he's not sure why. "Nahh, I don't think so." He turns to face the rest of them, looking from Danny to Jackson and ending on Scott. "Do you?"

"If you ask me," Scott says, eyebrows going up. "It isn't a game anymore." Danny and Jackson nods in agreement.

"Then let's get ready for a war." Derek hears himself saying, except it's the Alpha talking and it's more than ready for blood. Across the room the two Argents get to their feet, getting behind the pack in more than one way. Yes, Derek is fluent.

* * *

"Where are you going to go?" Scott asks and Stiles stop stirring the food to listen in, because he's the only one in the room who can't hear the hushed conversation as clear as if they had been shouting.

"My dad says there's a clan of hunters up north. They have sort of a grudge against my granddad, so they agreed to keep us safe for a while. They're very strict about the code, so they understand what we're doing. But Scott. " She reaches out and takes his hands. "We're going to come back, okay? It's just that..."

"You can't fight against your own family, but they won't hesitate to use you against us, I know that." Scott finishes for her and she's crying now and Stiles gets it. Allison is strong, she's a fighter just short of becoming a warrior and suddenly she's the weak link.

If any one knows about being the weak link it's Stiles. He listens in on the other conversations in the room as he sets the table for two and carries six plates into the living room. That way they can all take their plates and slip out through the back door as soon as Stiles' dad comes home from work.

Derek and Chris are sitting at the kitchen table, talking tactic and Stiles has to sort of reach around them to place the things on the table, putting a hand on Derek's shoulder to reach in and place the salad in the middle. Luckily Derek doesn't seem to mind, maybe he's a bit drained, really, Stiles wouldn't blame him. When he pulls back, Derek's fingers are suddenly around Stiles' wrist, holding his hand in place. Stiles can't help but get a bit nervous, but Derek just smiles.

"Thank you. For this." And the words seems awkward in Derek's mouth, but no less sincere.

And Stiles almost lets his jaw drop, but picks it up somewhere in the movement, managing to close it in a sorta fish-on-land kind of expression instead. "Well, there isn't much else I can really do to support the team, is there?" It's meant to be a joke, but still Stiles is a little surprised to see Derek Hale actually smiling at it.

"We should get going." Chris says and gets to his feet. "There is nothing else I can do for you boys now and I'm sure they're already looking for us."

"You're not staying for dinner?" Stiles asks, and he's a little upset, because he's pretty sure that everything would taste better if Allison and her dad would eat it with them, if the pack were all together. He's not sure how many minutes he's been thinking of them as part of the pack, not even sure the wolves feels the same.

Stiles isn't surprised to see that Scott and Allison has left the house, off saying goodbye in the darkness of the back yard. When Chris calls for his daughter, Allison comes in with Scott's hand in hers, as if they can't even bear to be separated.

Allison waves at Jackson and Danny, but sweeps in to give Stiles a real hug, whispering in his ear. "Please stay home. Please don't be a hero this time. It would break him apart if something happened to you."

And Stiles just nods against her shoulder and hugs her back. "You be careful too." He pulls back and looks at Chris, making sure the hunter knows he's included. Chris nods with a smile and the two of them leaves, Allison walking backwards out the door, eyes glued to Scott's face and Stiles doesn't think Scott has ever looked like this before. Broken and Determined at the same time.

"No!" Danny's voice breaks the silence, and Stiles turns to see what's going on, and it seems like he's the only one in the room who was unaware that an argument had been going on in the background. "You don't get to do this." Danny takes a step away from Jackson, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will punch you in the face, and it _will_ hurt!"

"You're serious?" Jackson says. "You're actually telling me no?"

Stiles isn't sure what the conversation is about, but there's something in the room, and Stiles is pretty sure it's an excess of testosterone.

"Jackson, I don't know what the HELL is going on, but I _know_ you, okay. I know you're not gay! You were never gay!"

And Stiles' pretty sure that this was not what he was expecting the argument to be about. He looks from Scott to Derek, but both of them are politely trying to ignore the altercation, or at least pretend to, because their hearing is not really letting anything be a secret. And Stiles thinks perhaps this why he's the only one surprised. Clearly this argument has been going on for a while now.

Unfortunately this is one of those times where Stiles accidentally talk out loud before his brain has given the all clear. "Is this a werewolf sex thing?"

And both Danny and Jackson freeze up, as if they hadn't even realized that people were in the same room. Scott actually smirk a little, trying to cover it up with his hand.

In the end Derek sighs and goes to stand in the middle of the pack. Stiles thinks it's kind of amusing the way the three teen wolves almost gravitates towards him, ending in a semi-circle in front of him. He hasn't even said a word yet, but the Alpha is pulling them in, and for a moment Stiles is actually sad that he doesn't feel the same pull, even if he sometimes thinks he does.

"It has nothing to do with sex." Derek explains. "It runs deeper than that. More feral, more animal."

"More animal than sex?" Scott asks confused.

"Yes. Not everything has to do with sex, I know that's a hard concept for a male teenage brain to grasp." Derek growls. "But it's the Pack. The bonds goes deeper than anything else."

"So it _is_ attraction?" Danny asks, taking a step step away from Jackson again.

"Yes, in a way, you can say that." Derek confirms. "But it's very basic, very feral. It's a need to stick together and protect each other. Okay, think about it. When you were human, you would never have felt the urge to lick someone's wounds, right?"

Jackson's face screws up, as if he's only now realizing that he actually has been licking someone's wounds.

"And even though Stiles might be stupid enough to fight with us and dive head first into danger if he thinks he can do anything to save his friends, I'm pretty sure he's not feeling the urge to lick your wounds, not even Scott's, I'm betting."

"Jackpot." Stiles answers in his best "_You're damn right I'm not_!"-voice.

"Okay." Jackson says slowly. "But I'm not feeling this - attraction - what ever, towards Scott or you."

Derek sighs, as if Jackson is being purposely dense. "You and Danny were friends before the bite. Good friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"So a bond was already there." Derek explains. "It just intensified. That's very common. It's probably also why you bit Danny in the first place, Jackson. The urge to bring Danny into your pack, even if you didn't have what it took to turn him."

"But I don't feel the urge to bite Allison, I never did." Scott says, and he seems very insecure suddenly. "On the contrary, she helps me control the wolf, and stay human."

"You don't feel the urge to bite her because you didn't get to know her until after you were bitten. That gives a bit of distance, because you've always been two different species." Scott frowns a bit at that and Stiles have to admit that it's funny, Scott realizing he's been having _interspecial intercourse_.

"The reason she keeps you human is simple." Derek continues. "It's because she's human. If she was a werewolf, she'd bring that part out in you. That's why most packs have humans." Derek looks at Stiles. "Because we need something to keep us grounded, human."

"So I actually do have a purpose." Stiles says cheerfully, just as the timer goes off and the lasagnas are done. "And dinner's ready. Dig in before my dad gets home. And eat up, this could be your last day alive."

He's not sure the humor bites on the pack, or if they're too concerned with everything that's been happening to day to pay attention.

Luckily Danny chuckles. "Are you giving the entire pack the "_Last day on earth_"-speech?" He asks and suddenly they're all laughing, even Derek smiles and shakes his head.

And maybe it's the knowledge that they'll be able to avenge Isaac soon or maybe it's a defense mechanism. Maybe werewolves can't stay sad for very long, it must be a terrible burden for a species that's hunted and killed everyday, so instead they just deflect the pain better than humans.

As they start to eat in the living room, door to the garden open if they need a quick escape, Danny sits close to Jackson, thighs touching and they're both calm, as if the acceptance of the pull between them, the bond, is enough to make them a lot happier and calmer.

Stiles sits between Scott and Derek, and where as Scott seems edgy and pained by Allison's absence, Derek is calm. Just as calm as Jackson and Danny, and Stiles can't help but think that he's the one who's doing it, the human who's calming Derek's inner wolf. If that's true, he's pretty impressed that's he able to calm an Alpha like that. He's half way through his lasagna before he remembers what Allison said to him.

_It would break him apart if something happened to you._

It takes Stiles until he's finished chewing the mouthful he's been working on to realize that she wasn't talking about Scott.


	6. Chapter 6

_You know what the weirdest part of this is? I'm sitting here on this fancy, cold tile floor in a puddle of my own blood with pain spiking through my lungs every time I breathe. Right in front of me is Derek, pale and still, on his stomach, and I can see him breathing, but it's erratic and shallow and somewhere above us I can hear Scott yelling for Danny to fall back._

_And all I can think about is that I have a test Monday and that my teacher won't care one bit about any of this._

_And thus ends the tragic life of Stiles Stilinski._

_But you know what? That's not really the interesting part of the story right now, so let's rewind it all twenty four hours._

Stiles' dad calls home just as the pack is doing Rock/Paper/Scissor for who's doing the dishes.

"_Yeahallo_." Stiles says, finger to his lips to get them all to shut up, as Jackson loses his third round and Scott throws the dishcloth in his face.

"Hi, son." Stiles can hear it right away in his father's voice, hear how tired he is, how he's trying to hold it together, but apparently failing at that part, because his voice is cracking. "I'm sorry, but I won't be home for dinner tonight."

"Is everything okay?" And there's a pause, a long pause where Stiles just holds his breath, thinking that if he didn't already know what his father was going to say he might have slipped into a full blown panic attack, but then his dad just sighs and asks, "Is Scott there?"

"Yeah?"

"Put him on the phone, please."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Just please put Scott on the phone for me, okay Stiles?" Stiles waves Scott over and puts a hand over the phone.

"Time to cash in on all the practice you gotten at lying while sneaking around with Allison." Stiles whispers and hands the phone to Scott.

Scott takes the phone and closes his eyes as Stiles moves away, giving Scott room to play his part "Sheriff? Is it my mom, is she okay?"

Stiles settles down on the couch and looks around the room. The pack has gone completely quiet and Stiles realizes that he's the only one in the room who can't hear both sides of the conversation.

"What?" Scott does fake shock very convincingly. "When?"

"_We got the call from Allison's mom about twenty minutes ago_." Derek's voice makes Stiles jump a little, because he hadn't noticed that the Alpha had moved. He is crouched down right behind Stiles, arms resting on the back of the couch. "T_o be honest we haven't got a clear picture of what happened yet, but as far as we can tell Allison's dad lost it and forced her into the car and drove away_."

Scott turns around to look at them, throwing out his one free arm in a "_What should I say_?"-kind of way. When Stiles just shrugs Scott makes a face and goes with: "Oh my God… Was she okay?"

Stiles can feel Derek huff out an amused breath against the back of his neck, and okay maybe Scott isn't the next big Oscar hope, but he still manages to sound convincing enough despite the fact that none of this is news to them.

They were assuming the Argents would go with the "_Father kidnaps teenage daughter. Family left in shock_."-approach, and apparently they were right on the money.

"_Yeah, according to her mother she was uninjured, but scared, but listen up Scott_." Derek continues to retell Stiles' dad's side of the conversation word for word in a hushed voice. For some reason Derek's voice just makes the words sound like it's a fairy tale and Stiles really hopes this fairy tale will have a happy ending. "_From what I gather here, Allison's dad took her because he got furious about her still seeing you. I called your house but your mom said you were with Stiles_. How about I just give you the highlights instead?" Derek ends and Stiles just nods, unable to say anything, because for a second the warm breath on his neck makes him think about a night, no so long ago, where Derek had his canines pressed against Stiles jugular, and the thought makes him shiver and his pulse go up.

It's mostly fear, but something else too, and God, he tries to control it, but he's always be a horrible liar and he certainly never learned to lie with his body functions, and there's a smile in Derek's voice, when he says, "They've sent a deputy to Scott's house, in case Argent comes looking for Scott there."

"You think he'd do that?" Scott asks on the phone and what ever Stiles' dad answers Derek doesn't feel he needs to share it. "Yeah, sure. Look, Mr. Stilinski, is there anything I can do?"

"They'll send a car to pick up Scott." Derek says and pushes off the couch, stretching back to his full height, but then leans back down, mouth an inch from Stiles ear. "And your dad says you should make sure the doors and windows are locked tonight."

"Please let me know if you hear anything." Scott finishes and when the call is over he just sort of stands there, looking at the phone.

"Look, Scott." Stiles says quietly, because even though the whole _kidnapped_ thing isn't real, Allison is still really gone, driving further away by the second, and it's clear to Stiles that pain in Scott's face is very real too. "They're safe. They'll be just fine."

"We need to worry about us now." Jackson agrees. "We have a war to plan, we can't worry about things that are frankly out of our hands."

"Yeah, we should talk about what we're going to do about the fact that the Argents have moved on to wolfbane in spay-form." Stiles says, getting to his feet. "That seems like a not so small problem, especially if I'm suddenly the only one left fighting."

"You're not coming." Derek says quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"You're. Not. Coming." Derek repeats slowly, stressing each word. "This isn't a war for someone like you."

"Yeah, okay. That's what they said to Eowyn, and she ended up kicking ass and saving the day." Stiles points out, but Scott does that annoying giggle of his, saying: "Stiles, did you just compare yourself to a girl?"

And yeah, okay. Maybe he did, and maybe now that he thinks about it he's not very proud of having done so, but the point still stands. Except it doesn't seem like Derek thinks there is any more to discuss.

"You two should get going," Derek says instead, facing Danny and Jackson. "I don't want to risk the police seeing you here."

The two of them nods and Jackson looks happy for an excuse to put the dishcloth down again, instead picking up his leather jacket.

"Get some sleep." Derek calls after them as the two of them slip out into the night, and Stiles can't help but smile, because the whole Danny/Jackson situation is a little amusing to him and apparently also to the rest of the pack, because even Scott is smiling, but then he looks down at his phone, at his _0 received messages_, and the smile is gone.

The deputy that comes to pick Scott up waits patiently for Scott to gather his things and in the meantime Derek sniffs the police car, making sure there is no trace of wolfsbane or Argents anywhere in or around it.

They say goodbye, Stiles reminding Scott one more time that Allison is fine, and when Scott drives away Stiles goes up to his room, just to find Derek there, sitting on Stiles bed. He's reading an old book that Stiles doesn't recognizes and guesses is a book Derek brought in from the tree house.

"Anything in there about how to make dirty dishes into deadly weapons? Because if there is, then we are all set for this thing." Stiles jokes, because he just can't stop himself.

Derek just snort out a short laugh. "I was hoping there'd be something in here about how to use the Alpha roar to control humans."

"So you can, what? Order them to act like decent human beings and leave us alone?"

"I was thinking more in the lines of forcing one incredibly annoying teen to keep his mouth shut for five minutes." Derek growls, and the annoyed pitch in his voice doesn't quite reach sarcasm. So Stiles picks up a book and sits down in front of his computer, because if he's not allowed to come to the actual fight he can at least contribute with some research.

After twenty minutes, however, he's managed to find absolutely nothing useful, unless you count a picture of Derek when he was a kid, that was used as a bookmark. But even that isn't enough to keep Stiles from getting restless.

"I think I should come with you." Stiles says, and slams the book shut, looking over at Derek on his bed.

"No."

"That's all your gonna say? Just no, just like that, nothing else, just no?"

Derek exhales loudly, as if Stiles burst of words was exhausting to hear. "_Hell _no."

And Stiles just sits there for a few seconds, completely stunned at the clean dismissal, because, okay, he might not have super speed or strength, and he might not be able to fight the way that they do, but he's saved Derek's life more than once, proven he's not useless, but this time he's what? Going to be locked in his room, like the misbehaved child?

"I'll give you a _hell no_." And it's almost a growl, even if it's no match for Derek's growls. "You don't get to decide, you don't get to leave me behind. I've earned the right to go and fight and die with the rest of you, and you can't stop me!"

"I'm your Alpha!" Derek roars, getting to his feet. And yeah, okay, Stiles puny growl wasn't even close to the real thing. But even thought there's a feral layer just under his real voice, Derek isn't turning. His eyes stay blue and he manages to calm himself enough to make the next words sound almost sad.

"But you're not a werewolf and I can't force you to do anything." He says, turning away from Stiles and walking over to the window to look out into the night. "But sometimes I really wish I could, I wish I could just shut you up, so I don't have to listen to all the words that just keep coming and coming and drowning out my own thoughts and making me…"

Derek seems to stop himself, letting a hand run roughly through his own hair, and Stiles has seen Derek dying more than just a few times, and still he thinks this is the most unraveled he's even seen him.

"But I can't shut you up, can I?" Stiles hears Derek say. "I knew the first time you told me not to turn you that it was because you didn't want anyone to have that kind of control over you. Because your words are what keeps you alive, isn't it?" Stiles walks closer, eyes fixed on Derek's back "You get under people's skin. I mean, you brought a _hunter_ over to our side! Because that's what you do, you make people fall in love with you."

"Derek?" Stiles doesn't know why he stops walking, why he stops when there's just one more step left. Except he's pretty sure that tonight is not the night where he's going to take that last step.

"I don't want you to come tomorrow," Derek says, and suddenly his voice is even, controlled, "I don't want to watch you die."

"What if you're dying, and hey let's face it, you have a lot worse track record with near death than I have, and what if I could have saved you, but weren't there."

Derek doesn't answer and he doesn't turn around to face Stiles, who is so close, less than an arm's reach away. Instead he throws himself head-first out into the night, out into the darkness, and for once Stiles stays in the light.

* * *

Stiles' dad wakes him up the next morning and the two of them eat breakfast together for the first time in god knows how long. His dad can't really talk much about the ongoing investigation, but Stiles manages to convince his dad that it probably won't be necessary to keep officers stationed by the Argent's house that night.

"We had another missing persons report come in, just this morning." His dad says as he empties the rest of his lukewarm coffee out into the sink, picking up his keys on the kitchen counter. "Isaac Lehay? Wasn't he on your team?"

"Umm, yeah." Stiles nods. "But he quit the team just around the same time as me."

His dad make a noncommittal sound and luckily his mind is already at work, because Stiles is pretty sure that if his dad were to ask him more questions, right here and now, Stiles would not be able to lie to him. And not just because Stiles is a terrible liar and his dad is a human lie detector to rival the werewolves, but mostly because Stiles doesn't want to sit here and lie to his dad, when he knows this might be the last conversation they'll have.

Because Derek might not want him to come tonight and he might go so far as to handcuff Stiles in his room to make sure he stays home, but Stiles is coming either way. No way in hell is he letting Scott go alone.

And Jackson, who can be an absolute asshat and a douchebag, but who's been there to save Stiles more than once.

And Danny, who heals Stiles up every damn time and laughs at Stiles' jokes when the rest of the pack just wants him to shut the hell up.

And Isaac. Stiles knows that they aren't going tonight to _avenge_ Isaac; They all agreed that they wouldn't be like Peter. They're going tonight because if they don't make a stand now, they'll be taken out one by one, on their way home from school or in their sleep, it doesn't matter. Gerard Argent will never rest until they're all dead. So instead they're going to fight tonight to make sure Isaac didn't die for nothing.

And of course Stiles doesn't _want_ to die. He's a teenager, for crying out loud, he's hardly even tried _living_ yet! But the thing is, it's been him and his dad, just the two of them for so long, and Stiles knows that it would break his father apart if Stiles died. But Stiles has added more people to his family now and he has to defend those idiots in every way he can, because he's pretty sure they'd be lost with out him too.

He follows his dad out to the car and does his best not to make it too awkward when he hugs him goodbye. His dad huffs out a surprised breath, but hugs him back. "It's okay, Stiles. We'll find Allison, okay? Trust your old man for once."

"I always trust you." Stiles whispers, because he wants to say it but he's not sure he wants his dad to hear it. "You never let me down once."

And his dad doesn't answer, but Stiles' sure he's heard it, because he plants a kiss on Stiles' head and hurries into his car, so Stiles won't see how moved he is, and Stiles can't help but smile a little as his dad drives away.

His dad is barely out of sight before his phone starts to buzz. "Scott?"

"Backyard." Scott answers and Stiles can hear the urgency in his voice and breaks into a run through the house. And as soon as he's out the backdoor he almost trips and falls, because Scott isn't alone there.

Lydia isn't naked this time, instead wearing one of Derek's hoodies that's big enough to reach halfway down her thighs. She's bruised and looks like she hasn't slept in days, but otherwise she seems unharmed from what Stiles can see.

"We need to get her inside." Scott says and lifts Lydia back up in his arms. She's awake, but barely and Stiles leads the way up the stairs where Scott puts her down in Stiles' bed and gets her some water to drink. Slowly she wakes up and focus returns to her eyes.

"Hey Lydia." Stiles tries, and he thinks she looks so extremely fragile. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." She whispers, voice coarse and strained, and Stiles doesn't want to think it, but he's pretty sure it's because she's been screaming her lungs out for a month.

"If you were fine, you'd have made some snide comment about how messy my room is." Stiles says, and Lydia actually smiles a little. "Or how a gentleman would have offered you a blanket by now."

"I'm fine." She repeats with a soft smile. "I'm not cold, at least. Just tired."

"How did you get out?"

"Derek. He managed to fight his way into my cell just an hour ago. He brought me here." She takes a long sip of water, and her voice sounds better when she continues. "I never thought I'd get out of there alive. I never thought I'd be human again."

"They…?" Stiles ask, trying to grasp what she's saying.

"They kept me like that. As a monster. I was stronger like that, could heal better, and they needed my poison." She whispers and when she looks at them there's shame in her eyes. "I think they used it for experiments, my skin too. Some of it they tested on me, a mixture of poison and something called aconite."

"Wolfsbane!" Scott and Stiles says at the same time and Stiles can see his own fear reflected in Scott's face.

"Yes. It was stronger, much stronger. I blacked out almost right away, just after a few minutes."

"I have to go tell Derek." Scott gets up disappears out the window so fast Stiles' eyes can't even follow him. Stiles hadn't even thought about Derek. Is he alright? Lydia said that he had fought his way to get to her, but Stiles didn't even think to ask if he was okay. Of course Derek's okay, he had brought Lydia here and given her his shirt, so he must be just fine.

He looks up to see Lydia looking at him with a sad smile, and he realizes that there's a tear running down her creek, but she just dries it away roughly, clearing her throat.

"Are you okay? Are you sure you're not hurt?" He asks, but she just gives a short, breathy laugh.

"No it's okay, it's just vanity. My ego getting a bit bruised."

"What are you talking about, you look beautiful." Stiles says, reaching a hand out to dry another tear from her cheek, and he's not sure why that action isn't scary to him, why suddenly sitting here with Lydia Martin isn't the most frightening thought in the world.

"Really?" She asks and suddenly there's something close to her old sarcasm in her voice. "Then why do I feel like you're more interested in Derek's shirt than in me?" And of course she would say that, because not only can Lydia hear his heartbeat and smell his emotions. She's also the smartest person Stiles knows.

And there is nothing he can say to answer that question. Because what ever the answer is, he's not ready to find out himself, so instead he does what he does best: deflect.

"So are you coming with us tonight?" He asks and pushes off the bed, going to his desk to pretend to look for something, but really he just needs to get a bit of distance between himself and the half-naked girl on his bed, that by all rights should bring out a very different reaction in him.

"I think that's why Derek risked his neck to save me, yes." She answers casually. "I don't think it was out of concern for my well being."

"You'd be surprised. He's less of a dirtbag now," Stiles says, turning his head to smile at her. "Actually managing to make it a pretty good pack."

"But you lost someone?"

"Yes Isaac, I don't remember if you knew him?"

"I wasn't really all that attentive." Lydia admits and Stiles can't help smiling, thinking how different she is now, but his smile fades away instantly when he remembers why she's changed, what she's been though.

"I'm sorry we didn't get you out sooner. For a really long time we didn't even know you were alive."

"But I'm here now." She says and takes a deep breath, pulling herself together in a way that shouldn't even be possible considering what she's been through. "And if I'm going to do some bitching kong-fu tonight I need a shower and some clean clothes."

"That I can supply." Stiles says and he almost wants to kiss her, because Lydia Martin is just that awesome.

Just around lunch Jackson and Danny comes over and although they're not touching they're keeping close to one another at all times and Stiles thinks it's just always going to be that way with the two of them. For some werewolves the bond just goes deeper, is stronger and more magnetizing. And it doesn't necessarily mean that they'll end up as a couple, although Stiles totally think they will. He thinks that if Jackson can just get his head out of his ass for ten seconds, he'd realize that there's far more useful things to put in there.

And yeah, that's probably not a though Stiles should have had.

The rest of the day is spent outside on a quilt, catching up, sharing stories and memories, and Stiles is almost nostalgic, because it reminds him of a time when they were all together and laughing, and Stiles can't help but think that the day they spent together as a pack in Derek's backyard was pretty much the best day he's had all year.

It's a different mood today. Not just because Isaac, Allison and Derek isn't there and not because Lydia is. It's mostly because they are so very young and still they're faced with the possibility of dying, and not for the first time.

A week ago they wouldn't even have blinked at the thought of going, but suddenly they're up against weapons they don't know how to fight, weapons that aren't made to defend people against rogue werewolves, but made to destroy.

And still the pack doesn't tuck tail and run. No one gives the slightest indication that they are anything but one hundred percent ready for this fight. And as the twilight slowly sets around them, and dew start to soak their clothes, the mood in the pack intensifies, and it reminds Stiles of the way it feels in the locker room before a big game when the team is fired up and ready to go.

"I really hope you guys are ready to bring your A game." Derek's voice says behind them and Stiles jerks around to see him, because he might have missed him a little, might have spent most of the day wishing that Derek would join them.

And Stiles can't help but stare a little, because Derek isn't wearing his usual suit of armor but is instead dressed in casual sweat pants and nothing else.

He looks even stronger than the last time Stiles saw him with out a shirt on, the day he ruthlessly used Danny to track a text message for them, and really, that seems like eternities ago. And yeah, he's seen Derek in a tank top since then and he knew perfectly well that the Alpha role had made Derek buff up, but seeing Derek like this makes Stiles realize for the first time in a long time, that Derek is a grown up, even if he is emotionally crippled to the state of an angry terrier.

Around him the pack and Lydia get to their feet, forming a semi-circle around Derek, who doesn't even bother giving out orders. He just growls loudly, eyes red and canines growing to sharp fangs. And then he shifts into the wolf, huge and black, and Stiles realizes that he's never actually seen it up close before.

It is, if possible, even more like the Camaro than Derek is, fur shiny and sleek like no real wolf could ever be. Derek would probably have sat back on his haunches and howled, if it hadn't been for the fact that they were all currently mid town in the Sheriff's back yard. Instead he growls again, and the pack echoes him while Lydia makes a high-pitched squeaking sound, and then they're off onto the night and Stiles is left behind in the darkness.

He stays for a few minutes, just staring at where they disappeared, even though he knows they're not coming back for him. In the end he picks up the quilt and goes to his room.

On his desk is a note, and he doesn't know the handwriting, except he kind of does, because he doesn't doubt for one second that it's Derek's.

"Stay Home." Is all it says, and Stiles can't help but smile. Because he had expected Derek to tie him up and lock him in his closet, but instead Derek did this. Gave him an order as if he's just another pack member, and Stiles kind of really likes that, even if he has no plans what so ever to follow the order.

He doesn't change his clothes, because honestly he doesn't expect to do much fighting. All he can hope for is that the hunters will ignore him, because he's human, and that he'll be able to sneak in undetected. Instead he grabs the keys to the jeep and runs downstairs and out to the car, popping the hood of the jeep open with out even testing if she can start, because Derek is nothing if not predictable.

It doesn't take Stiles long to fix the jeep back up, mostly because Derek's been stupid enough to teach Stiles a bit about engines. He takes off with out looking back, choosing a route that won't take him anywhere near the police station and he parks the jeep a few streets away from the Argent house and runs the rest of the way there.

There's a man on the ground right outside the door and Stiles doesn't want to know if he's alive or dead, but he doesn't see any blood and guesses instead that Lydia paralyzed him with her toxin.

The entire first floor seems empty, but he can hear growls and shouting from somewhere above him and heads for the stairs. He's halfway up when he hears the high-pitched whine below him, and Stiles freezes, feeling his entire body react to the sound, because it's the kind of sound an injured dog would make.

He almost falls down the stairs in his hurry to get back down, but he's not sure which way to go. If only he had werewolf senses he could just listen for Derek's heart beat, or smell him out. Instead he has to run down the dark hallway, poking his head in through every open door, until he stumbles into the kitchen. Derek is on the floor and he's human-shaped again, blood on his chest and in his face, and Stiles just have to walk one step closer to see why: On the floor behind the kitchen counter is Allison's mother, and her throat and chest is ripped up.

As Stiles walks closer there's a loud crackling sound as his shoe crunches on glass shards, and he looks down to see the remains of a smashed syringe.

Derek is breathing heavily, clutching his shoulder, but the poison is already spreading from there, making the blood in his veins black, getting him closer and closer to death with every heartbeat.

For a second Stiles can feel the panic rise in his chest, but then Derek's voice is there in the turmoil.

"Stiles?" And it's relief and pain at the same time, as Derek notices that Stiles is there, and Stiles manages to hold on to that voice and pull back to the kitchen and Derek in front of him. And he relaxes a bit, because yes, he knows what to do in this situation. This is why he's here.

He stumbles back over to the body of Allison's mother and finds a shot gun on the floor next to her. It's been clawed into two broken halves, and the chamber is open, bullets scattered around on the floor, and while his hands scrabbles for a bullet in the dark Stiles wonders if there is anything Derek's claws can't rip into shreds.

He falls to his knees next to Derek, who's just barely awake, and he swallows and fumbles with the bullet because he's shaking, but suddenly Derek's hand comes up and fingers wrap gently around Stiles' shaking wrist.

"Just breath. No reason to panic." he says and Stiles can't help but snort at that.

"You're dying!" He hisses, but manages to take deep breaths and calm himself some.

"That's not a very good reason to panic." Derek answers, and even now he's throwing around snide remarks, and Stiles kind of want to punch him in the face.

Stiles finds a knife on the kitchen counter and manages to open the bullet, carefull not to waste the fine wolfsbane powder inside.

"That's not going to work alone." Derek says and then he's groaning in pain and curling in to fetus position on the floor. "Lydia," he breathes, and that's all he can find the strength to say, as waves of pain surges over him.

"It was mixed with Lydia's poison, of course. I need to find her." But he doesn't even get out into the hallway before there's a swoosh of an arrow, and then there's just pain.

And still he doesn't scream, he can't scream, because the arrow has gone in right under his left arm and punctured a lung, but Derek can yell and he does. He yells Stiles' name as Stiles falls back against the wall and slips to the floor, everything around him going fuzzy, even the shape of Derek crawling towards him while shouting his name.

But Derek doesn't have the strength to reach Stiles and Stiles can't move. He just swallows and tries to breathe, even if every hissing breath sends sharp pains though his body.

_Well as I said, this isn't really the interesting part of the story. The interesting part is what happens next..._

* * *

A/N: I'm going to get a bunch of angry reviews for this, I'm sure of it. Ahh, the wonder of cliff hangers. And you should totally all comment on this or I won't post the last chapter! Yeah okay, I will! But I'll be mean about it!

I'm busy over the weekend, so you can expect the next and final chapter no later then Wednesday.

Again, thank you all for the lovely reviews, really they've been a huge factor in getting me fired up to write this.


	7. Chapter 7

_I had this dream when I was younger that I was a monster and that I killed my mom. Yeah, I know, pretty dark. But the thing is, I guess I always blamed myself for what happened._

_Actually I blame myself for a lot of things. And this isn't an exception. Okay, get yourself together Stiles. He's still breathing, you can still save him. You don't have to sit here and watch him die._

Stiles slips in and out of consciousness, so when two angels are suddenly sitting in front of him, one of them gently stoking his face, he's pretty sure he must have missed something. Because he's pretty sure heaven wasn't where he was heading two minutes ago, not the way he's been fucking things up lately.

"Stiles?" The angel says, and the voice, the voice is what makes him snap back and force himself to focus, because it's Allison. It's definitely Allison. And okay, if Allison is here perhaps he's not going to die anyway.

"Derek." Stiles hisses and coughs up blood, but it's worth it, because Lydia and Allison both turn and notice Derek lying on the floor behind them.

Lydia gets to Derek's side in one quick movement, turning him over on his back. "He's still alive."

"For now." Jackson says as he comes through the kitchen door. "I can barely hear a heartbeat."

Stiles wheezes in another deep breath, and bites his teeth together against the pain that spikes though his chest. "Need…" But he can't form a full sentence, and he can feel himself slipping away again from the effort.

"I got it." He hears Jackson say, and if Stiles had enough air to scream, he certainly would have done so, because Jackson sure isn't gentle as he pulls out the arrow. Stiles almost passes out from the sudden rush of pain, but Jackson slaps him back to consciousness. "Sorry about that, but the pain is just temporary, right?" He gives Stiles a smile as he quotes Coach's words. "We're men right? Pain is our friend." And Stiles knows Jackson is kidding, knows that he's doing what Stiles would have done; distract and confuse.

Still, when Jackson kneels down, knees on each side of Stiles hips and pushes Stiles shirt up he's more gentle. Carefully he pulls the fabric out of the open wound and bows down to close his mouth over it.

"That's got to be the hottest thing I've ever seen." Lydia says a bit offhandedly, earning a small smile from Allison, who haven't seen the healing process either, but have at least heard of it.

Jackson pulls his mouth away, licking spit and blood away from the wound to see if it's closed. It's not, not fully, but they haven't got the time to wait and it's healed enough that Stiles can manage to give orders anyway.

"Lydia, toxin. Mix with wolfsbane."

Lydia concentrates, reaches out her senses to catch the sound and smell of the hunters in the house, drawing on the urge to kill everyone of them to make her shift. Stiles can feel the fear rising up in him, even though he knows Lydia isn't going to hurt him this time. But it's hard to wrap your mind around when the last time he saw her like this she almost killed him.

The were-lizard growls and presents her tail to Allison who puts it gingerly on the kitchen counter and uses the knife Stiles left there to squeeze a bit of the toxin out on the surface.

"Here," Jackson says, opening another of the bullets scattered on the floor. He pours the powder out and Allison mixes it to a sticky paste with the tip of the knife.

"Burn it." Stiles grits out. "Make a cut over his heart and rub it in the wound. The deeper the better. It'll heal up if it works."

"Let me." Jackson says, bringing out claws on his right hand.

"If you kill him…" Stiles says, fighting to get to his knees, trying to get closer.

"Relax, Mowgli." Jackson says even as he's ripping into Derek's chest. "I won't kill your boyfriend."

Allison hurries to scoops up the paste with the knife and Lydia is there, human again, burning the mixture with a lighter, until it gives off an eerie blue glow. "This okay?"

Stiles nods. "Hurry."

All Stiles can think is that everything takes too long. Derek isn't reacting, his body isn't convulsing. There should be painful screaming and shaking, the ash of the mixture that Allison smeared in his wound should be burning the wolfsbane out of his system.

But there's nothing, no reaction.

At least not for a very long time.

The scream is more of a roar, gathering deep in Derek's chest and working it's way out before the Alpha can manage to stop himself. Derek seems so disoriented and overwhelmed by the sudden pain that he just keeps screaming and tossing on the floor, as if he's literally on fire. Stiles thinks it's the most horrifying think he's ever seen and he can't help but think that they somehow messed up, that they did something wrong.

He fights against his own pain, dragging himself towards Derek as panic rushes over him. He can feel Lydia taking a hold of his arm, pulling him back again.

"Don't. He can't control himself, he could hurt you." She whispers, and Jackson joins her and the two of them are pulling him back, away from Derek.

"We need to get out of here." Jackson says. "Allison,_ now_."

Allison has her back turned to them, frozen with her arms around herself, as she looks at the maimed body of her mother, tossed away in a corner of the kitchen.

"Oh, for gods sake!" Jackson growls, but Lydia shoots him a sharp look that shuts him up.

"Go find the rest of the pack." Lydia tells him. "Then get Derek out of here, We'll take Stiles."

Jackson doesn't argue, just lets go of Stiles' arm and runs off. Without Jackson holding him up, Stiles sags back down on the floor like a ragdoll, and Lydia leaves him there, instead going to Allison's side. She lays a gentle hand on her friends's arm. "Allison, sweety. We can't stay. The police are on their way."

"I can't believe…" Allison says, but the rest of it disappears in a strangled sob.

"We're not out yet, Allison. You have to keep focus now." Lydia reminds her and when Allison turns her head and looks at Lydia the pain just vanish from her features in an instant. Because Allison are many things, but first and foremost she's her father's daughter and she doesn't break when the game is on and lives are at stake. Instead she swallows and nods, shifting her entire posture into warrior-mode.

"Okay. Let's get out of here." She says, picking up her bow that lays abandoned by the door, thrown aside when they first found Stiles.

The two girls manages to get Stiles on his feet, supporting his weight and holding him steady, because he can't seem to find his balance. For a few seconds he tries to fight them, tries to get back to Derek, but then Lydia digs sharp nails into his arm, hissing: "You can't help him more than you have, Stiles. If you keep fighting I _will_ put you out!"

So Stiles stops fighting, letting the two of them lead him along the dark hallways of the Argent house. Behind him he can hear Derek's screams turning into a whimper.

When they reach the exit they meet Scott and Jackson, who's supporting Danny's weight.

"Is everyone alright?" Scott asks, running his eyes over the group of people gathered. "Where's Derek?"

"Either going through an incredible painful detox or dying." Lydia snaps, trying to sound more indifferent than she really is. "Just follow the screaming."

Scott gives her an angry glare before he leaves Danny to Jackson and runs off, but Lydia doesn't pay him any attention.

"Which way?" Allison asks as they reach the road. Stiles can feel his side getting sticky and he knows he's started bleeding again, but he can't care about that now.

"Left. Go left." Stiles pants, biting down the pain. "My jeep."

He can hear sirens closing in behind them, as Lydia and Allison carries him down the dark roads. He starts casting glances back over his shoulder, expecting the pack to join them, but when the sirens stop moving as they reach Allison's house there's still no sign of them.

When they reach the jeep Stiles fights his way out of the supportive hold of the girls, turning around to look out into the darkness. "Where are the others?"

Lydia reclaims her hold on his arm and half drags, half pushes him the rest of the way to the car. "They'll be fine."

"They've better be." Allison supplies, getting in behind the wheel.

Stiles lets his fingers brush the wound, and even though he was expecting blood he is quite frankly surprised at the amount. They are still almost twenty minutes from Stiles' house and they'll have to drive to avoid any passing police cars, which will only make the drive longer. For the second time that night Stiles prepares for the very real risk of dying.

"Please tell me you took down Gerard, at least?" He hisses out as he wrings out of his short sleeved shirt, gathering it into a ball and pressing it against the wound.

Allison shakes her head, and for a moment she looks utterly lost. "I don't know. I ran right into Lydia when I arrived."

"I was busy taking out everyone on the first floor, but I didn't see him there. The boys went upstairs and Derek went after…" She pauses and there's guilt all over her face when she whispers. "After Allison's mom. I'm so sorry, Allison."

"Not now, Lydia." Allison says, keeping her eyes on the road, her face full of determination. "Not yet. Let's just… we need to get to safety."

Stiles stares out into the darkness, expecting to see the dark shapes of the pack running past them at any moment. He doesn't notice the shift from looking out into the darkness to everything just _being_ darkness.

Complete and utter darkness.

* * *

There's crying. Crying and soft, hushed voices just on the other side of his eyelids, but they are so heavy. His entire body seems too heavy, practically unresponsive, but he still manages to draw attention to himself with a grunt.

Soft hands make gentle attempts at moving his fingers, and he can hear Lydia talking. Her words get stronger after a while and he begins to be able to make sense of them. "…I don't know for how long. I'm sorry if you're scared, it will wear of… necessary, you were tossing around, bleeding all over."

"I'm …not…move." He gets out and even if the words are wrong, Lydia understands.

"Yes, I had to put you out, Stiles. Can you hear me? You don't have to be scared."

Stiles manages to nod and that must mean that the toxin is wearing off so he focuses all his energy in opening his eyes. There are three other people in the room. Lydia is sitting on the bed, and she looks pristine as always. The sun streaming into the room behind her makes her look like a creature of pure light.

In the chair by the desk is Allison and she's the one who's crying. Scott is on the floor in front of her stroking her hand with his thumb. Their attention is directed at him, but Stiles can see they've been there for a long time and probably not for his comatose benefit.

"Where's people?" He manages to whisper and he's pretty happy he didn't ask `Where's Derek?´ Because he might very well have, since it's pretty much the only thing going through his mind right now.

"Everyone is alive." Lydia answers and there's that annoying know-it-all-smirk on her face when she helps him sit up. She leans in and adds in a hushed voice in his ear: "And Derek is _fine_."

She leaves him and walks around the foot of the bed, tickling his bare feet as she walks past. When he pulls them away from her fingers she smiles approvingly. "And you'll be fine too."

"You scared the living crap out of us all, man." Scott says, getting to his feet. "You didn't tell Allison or Lydia that you were bleeding."

"We were almost here when I smelled it." Lydia supplies. "I should have payed attention, but I thought you were just asleep."

"Not much you could have done." He says uncomfortable, moving so he can swing his legs over the edge of the bed. It stills hurts a little when he moves and Lydia is watching him with a concerned frown.

Scott is watching too, but he seems less concerned. Instead he walks over and puts a hand on Lydia's shoulder.

"Can you take Allison downstairs?" He asks and Lydia looks at him for a moment as if she's about to argue, but then she sighs and walks to the door where Allison is waiting, wrapping her arm around her friend.

"Come on, sweety. You look like a five year old did your makeup." She says, but her hold on Allison is much softer than her words.

Scott waits until they are out the door before he takes a seat in the empty chair, pulling it over to face Stiles on the bed.

"You know you saved Derek's life." He says, but still Stiles feels like this is the start of some kind of reprimand, and sure enough. "Still you shouldn't have come, you could have died. I mean you almost _did_."

"I couldn't let you fight with out me." Stiles shrugs. "If you had been the one on that floor dying from wolfsbane… what if that had been you and I hadn't been there to save you? You're my best friend."

Scott looks at Stiles for a moment and the room is completely quiet. Then Scott's face breaks into a wide smile. "You know, I actually feel like telling you that I love you?"

"Yeah, but just keep that a secret, because I don't need to know." Stiles throws back and they both laugh.

"But you know, Stiles?" Scott says, and his face isn't getting serious, but his voice is. "You're my best friend too, and that won't change, you know that, right?"

"I know, buddy." Stiles says, and he kind of feels like he's receiving an absolution for something he hasn't done yet.

"Okay, well. I need to get down to Allison." Scott gets to his feet. "I'll see you later okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Look, is everyone really okay? Danny? Derek?"

"Danny is better, he had to go through detox when we got back here, one of the hunters sprayed him right in the face with wolfsbane. He was touch and go there for a while. You should have seen Jackson." Scott says smiling. "And Derek? Well, why don't you ask him?" And Scott nods towards the open window and Stiles turns his head to see Derek sitting there.

Stiles barely hears Scott closing the door behind him as he leaves. He's much too focused on Derek. He looks unharmed, even though the last time Stiles saw him he had an open hole in his chest and was practically dying in front of Stiles' eyes.

He's doesn't notice that he gets to his feet, as if it's not really him in command of his body anymore.

"You know, you scared the living shit out of me, you fucking idiot." Stiles hears himself saying. Derek frowns at the words, but then luckily he realizes what Stiles is really saying and he sort of smirks.

"You should talk!" Derek counters and then he is pushing Stiles backwards with a growl.

Derek follows the movement with his own body, and they end up against the wall, pressed so close, but not close enough. Because Derek stops an inch from Stiles' face, breathing heavily, waiting, and Stiles is pretty sure he's waiting for permission.

Stiles isn't about to give it though. This is at last that final step, and Stiles knows that he's the one who's supposed to take it.

He swallows when Derek's hand comes up to brush a thumb against his cheek. "_I think_ I told you to stay home." Derek whispers with a badly concealed smirk on his face.

"I think I ended up saving your sorry ass." Stiles shoots back, and Derek's smirk turns into a real smile. It's the most wonderful thing Stiles has ever seen and he doesn't hesitate, not even to think about the fact that he's about to kiss Derek Fucking Hale, but instead closes the remaining distance and presses his lips against Derek's.

Stiles actually _have_ kissed girls before, but this is nothing like that. Derek doesn't do careful or shy. He isn't waiting for Stiles to catch up, but he's not fighting him down either. Instead he lets his mouth invite Stiles to push back into the kiss and Stiles is more than happy to follow his lead.

Stiles is the first to open his mouth, and Derek takes full advantage of the access, finding Stiles tongue and pressing against it, moaning roughly when Stiles replies by licking against Derek's tongue for dominance.

When Derek pulls back to draw breath Stiles can't help but follow him a bit of the way, not quite ready for the kiss to end. But Derek keeps close, breathing in the air that leaves Stiles' mouth.

"You're such a fucking idiot." Derek says breathlessly after a few seconds, but Stiles doesn't know what to say. His mind is spinning, and he's dizzy for reasons he's not sure off. Instead he just stares up at Derek in silence, mouth hanging open.

"Oh, God. I've broken it." Derek says with a smile and Stiles manages to pull his hormornal teenage brain together enough to make a face at Derek.

"Just give me a second and I'll be working again." Stiles says and Derek lets out a breathy laugh.

"I've got time." He says and leans in to bury his face in the crook of Stiles neck. "We've got time." He mumbles and Stiles can feel the smile on his own face growing wider.

When Stiles feels like he can control his body again, they go down stairs to join the others. Halfway down, however, Derek stops and turns around to look up at Stiles behind him on the stairs. It takes a moment for Stiles to realize that Derek looks unsure, because it's not really an expression he's used to seeing on the Alpha's face.

He has to remind himself again that he's allowed to touch, that Derek and he did in fact just have their tongues in each other's mouths. And he thinks perhaps the uncertain look on Derek's face is because Derek is also unsure that it really did happen.

So Stiles takes a step down, getting as close as he can while still keeping a bit of a height advantage on Derek. And then he leans down and press a soft kiss to Derek's lips.

"Don't you dare look like you think this isn't real!" Stiles whispers against Derek's mouth and the smile is forcing its way back on Derek's face and the Alpha growls deep in his throat. Arms come up to pull Stiles closer, mouth coming up to claim Stiles mouth again, and suddenly Stiles isn't sure they will ever make it all the way down the stairs.

They do, however, but it takes a bit of time. But it's time well spend, Stiles thinks.

In the living room Lydia is sitting on the back rest of the couch, brushing Allison's hair and the two of them are talking quietly, and even though Allison has stopped crying, she still looks every bit as fragile as Stiles has ever seen her.

Scott is taking up the rest of the space on the couch, resting his head in Allison's lap. His hand is rubbing gentle circles on the inside of her wrist, a constant reminder that a fragment of his attention is still on her, even though his eyes are glued to the TV. Once in a while he turns his head up to look at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Across from them Danny is sitting curled up in the arm chair and Jackson is sitting on the floor in front of him. They're also watching the game, making comments and laughing, and they're holding hands, just fingers interlaced, and Stiles thinks it's weirdly not weird.

He doesn't know if his entire perspective has been shifted, but everything feels like it's finally the way it's supposed to be.

"Hey boys." Lydia says, drawing attention from the game over to Stiles and Derek. "Didn't expect to see you two already." She teases and Stiles almost blushes. Derek, on the other hand, just shakes his head with a sigh and walks out into the kitchen.

"I kinda feel like the freak here." Scott says, and there's a cautious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I mean, when did it go out of style to like girls?"

"Shut your mouth, McCall!" Jackson growls and everyone else just laughs.

"I swear to God, Scott." Derek's voice comes from the kitchen. "I don't need this many Betas. So you better watch your mouth." But it's more bark than bite, because when he comes back out of the kitchen, carrying a sandwich and a glass of milk, he's smiling.

"What are you talking about? Danny isn't a Beta!" Scott says, smiling in Danny's direction. Jackson turns his head up to look at Danny, who just shrugs and bends down to plant a quick kiss on Jackson's nose.

"I wasn't talking about Danny." Derek growls back and hands Stiles the sandwich when he passes him in the living room. Stiles looks at the sandwich and then at Derek, eyes following the Alpha as he crosses the room. And Stiles is not really used to the fact that he's allowed to look, but his eyes are apparently far better at getting with the program, because they aren't waiting for permission from his brain.

Derek leans back against the wall and raises the glass to his lips, looking over the edge at Stiles. And when their eyes meet, Stiles finally gets what Derek is saying and so does the rest of the pack.

"Stiles isn't even a werewolf!" Scott all but whines, making Lydia pad Allison's shoulder in sympathy with the woes of dating Scott.

"Minor detail." Derek shrugs, face expressionless as he drinks most of the milk.

"Nope, not buying it." Jackson says, shaking his head. "Even if you turn him, Stiles isn't Beta material. Betas are broody and tough." And he smiles his best cocky smile when he continues. "Stiles is all talk, or have I missed something?"

Once again Stiles can feel himself blushing, but Derek doesn't even look mad - even if he does huff out an annoyed grunt - and Stiles realizes that he probably isn't. Because Derek loves them all, Stiles knows he does. And Derek can't be mad, can't be really angry when his pack is all laughing and safe and together.

"By the way, your dad called while you were out." Scott says looking at Stiles. "I told him you were taking a shower, so you probably should before he comes home."

"Are you saying I smell?" Stiles asks in fake outrage and he's happy to have the conversation back at a subject that doesn't make him blush like a twelve year old girl.

"I'm saying you _stink_ and you're covered in blood." Scott says, and suddenly they're skating on the edge of a far more serious subject and Stiles thinks he's allowed to be the one to push it over, because he's the one who's been out for hours, missing out on things.

"So what's the news on the whole thing?" He asks, and looks around. Danny and Jackson are already consumed in the game on the TV again.

"Your dad wouldn't say. But they called Allison. They're letting her dad out."

"Out? Where has he been?"

Scott looks at Allison, who takes over. "He turned himself in right before I left." Allison says. Scott turns his attention back on the game as well, but he reaches a hand up to brush gently against her cheek.

It's that wolf thing again. The constant touching. In the arm chair Danny is brushing absent-minded at Jackson's neck.

"Why?"

"Well, because while he's in a holding cell he can't have been involved with the murders of his family, can he?" She explains. "In fact, my dad told my mother and my granddad to stop selling weapons to some very nasty contractors, but they wouldn't listen. In the end he saw no other option than to take me and run away. Just in time, it seems. Those contractors can be quite nasty when they have something to prove."

"That's pretty brilliant." Stiles says impressed. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Derek move closer.

"Most of the hunters are still alive, they know the truth." Lydia points out, but Allison just shakes her head. "They're hunters. They won't say anything."

The rest of the boys have already left the conversation, their eyes glued to the TV and so Stiles turns his back to Derek, hand reaching behind him in invitation.

Derek takes it, his hand and the invitation, bringing their joined hands up in front of Stiles' chest, pulling him in close as if he's afraid Stiles might change his mind and run away.

But Stiles doubts there is anything he'd be less likely to do right now. Instead he takes a deep breath and leans back into the embrace. He knows Lydia and Allison are looking at them, but when he risk a glance they're all smiles and Allison even blush a little, but Stiles doesn't blame her, because they really are a cute couple, aren't they?

Behind him, Derek seems to agree, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and breathing in, in something Stiles can only classify as deep wolfish content.

* * *

Derek has a lot of things he needs to do. One of the first thing he does is to sit down and have a long talk with Chris Argent. He doesn't expect it to be sunshine and kittens, but Argent is surprisingly agreeable - Derek might go so far as to call him friendly - allowing Derek and his pack to roam freely where ever they want. Provided, Argent points out, that Derek swears not to turn more people.

Derek isn't sure how much Allison has told her father, but she must have told him enough, because when Derek hesitates, Argent sighs and shakes his head.

"I can't keep making exceptions, Derek. Even with Gerard dead, it's a thin line I'm walking here. If I don't stand my ground on this other hunters will come and I won't be able to keep your pack safe." He looks at Derek and then sighs and looks away. "Talk to your pack, talk to him. If he's willing, I can't tecnically do anything about it."

Derek spends the rest of the day thinking up ways to ask Stiles with out asking. But then after a whole day of thinking about Stiles as a werewolf, it suddenly hits him that he's missed something very important.

He lets himself into Stiles' room through the window while Stiles and his father are eating dinner downstairs.

They've been introducing the pack to the Sheriff little by little. They don't have to hide away anymore, but they're still using Stiles' house and garden as a meeting place, even when the Sheriff is home. Sometimes Scott, Jackson and Danny stops by to watch the game, sometimes Allison stops by to pick up Scott. Lydia comes by once in a while to shower and change out of her torn clothes after having been running around in the forest all night, and although the Sheriff clearly doesn't know what to make of it, he has at least stopped putting out a 10-57 on her, every time she's gone.

But no one, not even Scott, spends as much time at Stiles place as Derek does. At first the sheriff was, well it would be an understatement to say unhappy about it. He was closer, perhaps, to arresting Derek every time he saw him in the house. But Stiles told him to stop worrying before he gave himself a heart attack, and after that the Sheriff would just accept Derek's presence with a displeased air of general resignation.

Still, he doesn't want the sheriff to know exactly how much time he spends in Stiles room, so most days he's still using the window.

"How did it go?" Stiles asks as soon as he comes through the door and Derek looks up from the book he's been reading. "Are we a free people at last?"

"As good as." Derek answers, and decides to jump right into it. "There was a condition though. We're not allowed to turn more people."

Stiles doesn't look surprised, instead he just nods. "That's not really news. But he can't keep you from turning people who asks for it, right?"

"No." Derek agrees. "But why would anyone ask for it?"

And at that Stiles freezes and Derek can hear his heart rate going up. Not much, just enough that Derek isn't surprised when Stiles walks over and kneels down in front of where Derek is sitting on Stiles' bed. "Do you still want to turn me, to make me into a werewolf?"

Derek smiles and lets a hand run through Stiles' short hair, letting it rest against the teen's neck. "Do you want that?"

"I think I'd let you." Stiles says honestly. And for once Stiles isn't throwing words around, isn't making jokes. And it's one of the things that Derek has come to love about Stiles after he's gotten to know him better. Stiles actually knows when to be serious.

"If you want me." Stiles adds, and the words stabs Derek in the chest, and he's not sure why, except he thinks he's failed miserably if Stiles would doubt that. So he cups Stiles jaw, tilting his face up.

"I want you human." He says, kissing Stiles' forehead. "I _like_ you human." He continues and kisses Stiles nose. "I like how your humanity keeps me human too." And his lips lingers over Stiles' mouth, just long enough for the teen to become impatient and cross the distance himself. It's intoxicating, being able to hear the quickening of Stiles' heart, smell how his mood changes, and Derek breaks the kiss off, just before they get to the point where none of them will be able to.

"So I calm you down?" Stiles says smiling, and okay, it is funny, because right now Derek doesn't feel very calm.

"Do you remember the day I got shot and told you to cut off my arm?" Derek says and gets to his feet, holding out a hand to pull Stiles up too.

"Vividly."

"Remember how I found you in the school parking lot? I was almost loosing it then, I was so close to turning." Derek continues and watches as Stiles walks over to the closet to grab his Lacrosse stick and his uniform. "You calmed me down, your presence, your smell, the sound of your heartbeat." Stiles stops looking for his shirt and turns to face Derek, and there's a look on Stiles' face, like he doesn't completely believe what Derek is telling him. "I didn't even know you. You were just Scott's friend."

Stiles takes his things and throws them on the bed, slowly walking over to Derek. "But not after that day?"

Derek's about to answer, but suddenly he feels like he's walking into a trap. But not answering is obviously just as incriminating.

"How long have you liked me, Derek?" Stiles asks, and Stiles might not be a werewolf, but there's definitely something feral about the way he's smiling. So Derek does the only thing he can think of that he knows will shut Stiles up and distract him enough to drop the subject. He pulls him in and nibble gently at Stiles' ear and whispers. "Just shut up."

And Stiles does. But only because Derek makes him.

* * *

fin

* * *

A/N: Oh gosh, all the fluff at the and, I almost made myself a little queasy. I really hope you're all happy about the ending, I was writing it for you as much as for myself, which is a really rare thing for me, I might add.

And there is no reason to go cry your self to sleep because it's finished. Because I will be adding another short chapter as a treat, but it might take a little while.

I will also keep writing other Teen Wolf stories. You guys have been far too amazing for me to stop. I've planned a series of one shots, starting with the Erica one I've already posted.

Again, thank you all so much. Reviews/comments are very appreciated.


	8. Easter Egg

Derek never thought he would be doing this: lying here in bed next to a human teenage boy, just staring at the way the morning sun makes his skin turn almost cobber and makes his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

If Stiles had been a girl Derek would have called him beautiful. Instead he just calls him beautiful inside his own head, so he doesn't risk severe verbal retribution. And Derek is pretty sure that if Stiles ever found out how much time Derek spends just staring at him, he would be a little freaked out, but maybe also a little flattered. Because no one has ever managed to wedge their way into Derek's heart the way that Stiles has.

This one little, hyperactive human, who just keeps giving, but never gives up; always has everyone's back, but never backs down and who - for some obscene reason that Derek will never understand - decided that he wanted Derek Hale of all people.

Derek leans over, placing a gentle kiss to the scar tissue on Stiles' shoulder, hearing the teen's pulse rise instantly, even though he knows Stiles isn't awake yet.

He lets his tongue run over the spot again and then continues down Stiles chest, planting soft kisses as he goes, stopping when he reaches the long, white scars that continues down to Stiles' hip.

They've healed, but they're still very prominent, especially now that Stiles has been spending some time outside with out a shirt. The five white lines gives off a slight silver glow, nothing a human would ever notice, but Derek does. Because it was him that closed those scars up and they carry a bit of him in them.

Just like the rest of the scars carry a bit of both Jackson, Danny and Scott in them. If Stiles were ever to doubt that he is part of the pack, this is proof enough to set him straight.

Derek lets his tongue follow the line of one of the scars, tracking the movement with his thumb to dry away the wet trail left behind.

Under his touch Stiles shivers and Derek looks up to see that the teen is awake. When their eyes meet Stiles lets out a content moan and smiles.

"What's so funny?"

"You." Stiles replies instantly. "Derek Hale. Lying half-naked in bed with the Sheriff's underage son."

"I'm not doing anything illegal." Derek points out, just as his hand moves down Stiles' side, ending on his thigh where his fingers finds the next scar: Two bullet holes, close together.

"If I know my dad, and I do, he wouldn't stop to ask." Stiles says, and when Derek raises his eyebrows at him, Stiles can't help but squirm a little. He hasn't really gotten used to being the center of Derek's attention.

But there is nothing and no one Derek would rather give his full attention, and he lets Stiles know by moving down, so he can place kisses to the scars on the outside of Stiles' thigh.

"We just have to be very quiet." Derek whispers and pushes Stiles leg up so he can reach the mirroring scars on the inside as well and smiles when Stiles jerks at the mouth-on-sensitive-skin contact.

Stiles actually huffs out a nervous laugh. "I am really, really never getting used to this."

"Should I stop?" Derek offers, but he doesn't really expect Stiles to take him up on it. Stiles, however, is an eternal source of surprise.

"Well, yes. Actually." Stiles answers and he wraps his fingers in Derek's dark hair, pulling the Alpha up to claim his mouth with his own. For a moment Derek's world narrows down to the feel of Stiles' tongue against his and he groans in frustration when Stiles breaks the kiss.

But Stiles just smiles against Derek's lips and trails his mouth down the Alpha's jaw. "If you want to stay a good, law-abiding citizen I suggest you keep your mouth out of that general area."

Derek moans in frustration, but doesn't argue. Instead he leans down, nuzzling into Stiles' shoulder and throat, breathing in the scent of the teen. "Are you really going to make me wait to touch you until you're eighteen?" He mumbles and Stiles lets out an amused breath.

And then Stiles is moving, pushing against Derek until they've changed places and Stiles is straddling Derek's hips. When Derek lifts his head to seek out Stiles mouth Stiles grips the Alpha's hair and yanks his head back on the pillow. "I'm going to make you wait until I'm sure my dad _won't shoot you_." He says and brushes his fingers trough Derek's wild mane.

"So forever, is what you're saying?" Derek growls, but Stiles just huffs out more amusement and bites Derek's earlope gently, but hard enough to make the Alpha jump.

"Derek. I'm a teenage boy. I have needs, you know." He mutters into Derek's ear, and Derek groans and folds completely under the teen as Stiles moves to repay the attention that woke him up.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay I swear to god this was the last I'll add to this story.  
From now on everything Teen Wolf will be posted as a separate story.

I have a bit of a head canon on Jackson that I never managed to fit into this and I think it will be a great base for another adventure for the pack.  
If you want to make sure you catch the next story, you can follow me on tumblr as pentakill-lux  
I also post teasers there.


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